


Drarry One-Shots

by Accio_Me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slash, friendship/romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accio_Me/pseuds/Accio_Me
Summary: This is a collection of  Drarry stories. I love me some good Drarry :D





	1. A Guide To Happiness By Ginny Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All of the characters and their background stories belong to JKR. I merely use them out of fun :D I do not make profit out of this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people had to be forced into being happy. Especially if said people were as stubborn as one Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 4 on FFN. My position was Chaser 3.  
> We had to choose a pairing name and I ended up with Ginny and Dean.  
> I decided to upload all of my favourite Drarry stories on here as well. 
> 
> Prompts:  
> (dialogue) "You're crazy!" // "Were you ever under the impression that I was normal?", (word) mist, (word) scarf
> 
> Enjoy reading :D

**‘A Guide to Happiness’ by Ginny Weasley**

„You’re crazy!“

„Were you ever under the impression that I was normal? Seriously, Dean! We were together for a year. You must know me better by now.”

The evil grin that spread over the youngest Weasley’s face was frightening to say the least and the young Gryffindor who was kneeling beside said Weasley was very happy that he had not been chosen as a victim this time. It was horrible enough that Ginny grew up with two of the most infamous pranksters of the world but to have them ruin her innocent mind in a way that made her come up with even more dangerous and downright frightening plans was just too much for him to handle, so he could merely sit back and watch the show.

They were crammed in a small broom cupboard that left little room to breathe, lest move at all. They were quite literally stuck in there. Not that he minded... He had never stopped liking Ginny in a romantic way, even though Ginny had told him that she did not feel the same for him anymore. He could accept that and he was trying his absolute best to get over his infatuation with the ginger haired witch. Being pressed against her side, having her thighs press against his wasn’t really helping his case though...

Soft footsteps caused Ginny to gasp and wiggle forward a bit so that she could peek through the key hole in the wooden door, touching his knee with her bum in the process. Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly to keep his body’s normal reaction at bay and held his breath. He didn’t want Ginny’s wrath directed on him, Merlin forbid!

A sigh could be heard through the door and a soft thud as the person leaned against the wall across from them. He didn’t know who they were but according to Ginny’s excited, whispered descriptions she was very happy with what she was witnessing...

*~*Artist’s Flame*~*

Harry leaned back against the cold stone wall of the cold dungeon, wrapping his scarf tighter around his slender neck. He was happy that he had remembered taking it as he had upped and left the Common Room to meet up with whoever had sent him this nice sounding letter. He just hoped it wasn’t some crazed fan who wanted to kidnap him.

After his defeat of Voldemort, girls and boys alike – no matter what age – had followed him everywhere. He had not been able to walk through Diagon Alley at the start of term to get his school supplies – he had to apparate out of there quickly in order to escape the screaming mop of people, some of whom actually fainted as they caught sight of him. Some Order members had to complete his shopping for him. It had been incredibly embarrassing!

Even at Hogwarts he hadn’t been able to breathe because students tended to follow him everywhere he went – the library, the class rooms – no matter whether it was an eighth year class and they were supposed to be in a second year one. Some even had the courage to march straight into the Quidditch changing rooms which had not only been horribly embarrassing for his boxershorts-clad self but for the other team members as well.

Harry groaned and rubbed the famous scar on his forehead. Why had he even bothered to come? It was sure to be some kind of crazed and infatuated student who would just love to get a hug or even a kiss out of him. Running a hand through his hair, he slowly turned to leave the cold corridor.

*~*Artist’s Flame*~*

A frown darkened his face as he wandered through the dungeon corridors towards the meeting spot he was supposed to be at in - he cast the _Tempus_ charm – ten minutes ago. He rolled his eyes and sighed. He was already too late anyway.

Why did he even bother to leave the somewhat warm Common Room in favour of the cold stone halls of Hogwarts?

Oh, right.

Because some bimbo had sent him a letter he had intended to ignore only to have it ripped out of his hand by none other than Pancy Parkinson herself who immediately started gushing about how cute all of this was and teased him with having a crush with whom he’d write love letters. Pfft, as if a Malfoy would downgrade himself like that. But he had had to agree on meeting said mystery crush in order to shut her up and prove to her that he had indeed no idea who that person might be and to prove that he had no positive thoughts about this matter whatsoever. It was very twisted logic but logic one Pansy Parkinson thought to be accurate and who was he to not do anything in his power to convince her that he did not have a crush that sent him love letters?

It wasn’t as if Potter would be the one writing that letter. He just couldn’t imagine the boy-wonder sitting down in front of the fire, the flames warming up his slight figure as he hunched down over a piece of parchment, his falcon quill in his right hand, a pot of ink on the floor next to him...

He blinked and shook his head rapidly to get those wicked thoughts out of his mind. Where the hell did that come from? _Potter?_ How did he...

Draco stopped walking and leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall to his right. He was close to the Potions classroom and he could smell the fumes wafting through the corridor. Having all this probably toxic or at least unhealthy mist floating around him didn’t exactly make it easy for him to get back into the right state of mind. He knew where that thought had come from if he was completely honest with himself, but he refused to dwell on those feelings. He had sworn to himself to never act on them! He was a _Malfoy_ , damn it, and Malfoys did not like the male but the female and would marry a female and would sire children with said female in order to get an heir to the Malfoy name.

He sniffed, pushed himself away from the wall and stood straight. He needed to keep a clear head to find out what all of this letter nonsense was about, so with this thought it was that the blond wizard walked around a corner and saw one particular Gryffindor wander through the corridor, his back turned towards him, mumbling softly but quickly to himself and Draco’s heart stopped.

*~*Artist’s Flame*~*

“There he is! Finally! Merlin, he is too late!”

Ginny shook her head disapprovingly and crouched closer to the door, waving for Dean to follow in her wake. She leaned against the old wood, pressed her ear against it and waited.

And waited.

She frowned. Next to her, Dean glanced up from his spot on the ground. He had somehow managed to lie down on the floor, press his cheek onto the cold and dusty stone floor and tried to sneak a glance through the small space in between the ground and the door. Ginny huffed.

“What was supposed to happen?” Dean blinked and rubbed at his eye to get out a grain of dust that had landed in there from Ginny’s breathing out rapidly. He grumbled as it started to tear up.

“Well, what do you suppose should have happened?” She hissed quietly and annoyed, both with him, herself and the two lovebirds outside the dirty broom cupboard they were hiding in which was filled with dusty, old brooms, rusty buckets and bottles of unknown liquids... and probably about a hundred or so spiders hiding behind the items stored in there.

“Well, I don’t know!” Dean answered exaggeratedly.

“Shut up, you idiot, they’ll hear you!”

“We already _can_ hear you.”

The voice made them freeze and stare at each other in horror as the door to the cupboard was opened and had them tumbling out and landing on the cold stone floor in one heap of tangled limbs.

“Why, hello there, Weasley, Thomas,” a sneering face came into Ginny’s field of view and smirked down at her. She huffed as she glared into those steel grey eyes that she hadn’t despised ever since the end of the war. There was an amused gleam in there that warmed up the usually cold colour and made her cheeks go red with embarrassment of being found in a broom cupboard, watching both him and the other teenager secretly.

“Draco,” Ginny huffed and pushed against one of Dean’s feet that was currently digging uncomfortably into her stomach. “Would you please move, Dean? Your foot is in my stomach.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“OUCH! Freaking...! Stop kicking me, you idiot!”

A booming laugh had them freeze again as Harry pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against and leaned down to them, still giggling, as he tried to pull her away from the other Gryffindor who was doing his best in fending off the Slytherin as the latter pulled him onto his feet, the sneer more prominent on his aristocratic face than usual.

“Would you mind telling us what exactly you’re doing in an unused broom cupboard, both covered in dust?” Harry grinned down at her as she straightened her school robes, trying not to blush too much.

"Umm... research," she said and sneaked a glance to her right towards Dean who was looking everywhere but the three people in front of him. She huffed. Typical of him to not support her in a moment of need. She rolled her eyes and met Harry's amused, emerald green ones.

"Research, huh?" His glance darted to the blond Slytherin who was still standing next to him, smirking. "I wonder whether that research had anything to do with two letters that happened to be delivered to us yesterday evening."

He ran a hand through his hair, succeeding in making it point into every direction, giving him that _freshly fucked_ look she absolutely loved. More innocent people would say he looked as if he'd just climbed off of his broom after hours of flying around but she preferred her description of what she saw and Draco seemed to agree with her as she saw his pale cheeks darken slightly with a lovely pink colour as he watched Harry mess up his hair.

Ginny grinned. She couldn't believe that they had not yet noticed each other's Feelings, but as she looked towards Dean who was busy watching her, she wasn't all that surprised. Apparently guys were just blind when it came to _emotions_. She rolled her eyes and winked at Dean who blushed and quickly turned away. She giggled.

"Depends on whether you'd think of them as important."

Her eyes darted from Harry to Draco and back again. Both of them seemed different than just this morning at breakfast. Not that she was particularly close to the blond but she was with the raven-haired Gryffindor and that much was for sure – he was behaving differently.

"They were indeed interesting, I have to say," Draco replied and a soft smile appeared on his face as he tried to look everywhere but to the spot next to him where Harry was doing the exact same thing.

"Ah, I'm glad," Ginny smiled innocently and turned towards Dean. "What do you think? Should we make a short trip to the kitchens and have some delicious cupcakes for celebration?"

Dean raised his eyebrows at her, but as he saw her nod discretely, he smirked and agreed. She'd tell him what they had just done soon enough, he thought as Ginny took hold of his hand and tagged him along down the corridor in the direction of the picture with the pear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me what you think! I love reading and answering reviews. They make my day.
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	2. A Mother's Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessing something disdained is never easy, but Draco's heart gives him strength to do what must be done - tell his parents he's in love. With Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from the third season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition on FFN. In this one, we had to write about forbidden relationships.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (word) practically, (word) anatomy, (word) euphoria
> 
> Enjoy! :D

**A Mother’s Voice**

The only thing he could hear was his fast heartbeat, as his heart thumped against his rib cage, trying to burst out. His rapid, somewhat irregular breathing that he wasn't able to get under control made him even more nervous.

He glanced at the old grandfather clock in the hall-like room, ticking softly. The bigger hand moved slowly, inching towards his meeting with his parents. He gulped. Why was he so nervous? Two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to not only shut out the light but everything else as well. Why was this situation so nerve-wrecking? Why was he so afraid to tell his parents that he fell in love?

 _Because you fell in love with a man_ , his inner nasty voice replied. He scowled. He couldn't control with whom he'd fall in love, now could he? His parents had organised a betrothal between himself and some other rich pureblood he had yet to meet. He didn't want to meet that person. He didn't want to marry someone he didn't love, hell, didn't even know!

His parents' marriage was the product of a betrothal between two high class pureblood families that had needed this connection in order to keep their influence on the wizarding world up and going. He was pretty sure that his parents loved each other, but he had never seen them act loving or caring towards each other. The only reason why he knew that his mother was able to love was her treatment of him. How she spoke with him, how she hugged him... His father had always been this untouchable persona, not even being himself whilst talking with his own son. Or maybe he couldn't act any different? He grew up with elders, never allowed to get in touch with people his age. Maybe his father didn't know how to properly interact with someone younger than him - his son at that?

"Draco."

His eyes snapped open, his head up and his hand to his side. He desperately tried not to clench it as he saw his mother walk into the room, a soft smile on her face and her arms opened wide to greet him.

"It's been such a long time!"

"Hello, mother," the nervous wizard said as Narcissa Malfoy embraced him. "It's been too long."

"Way too long." She pulled away and held him at arms' length. "You look good, darling!"

"Thank you." A pink tint coloured his cheeks as he tried to squirm under his mother's gaze. She had always enjoyed to just look at him. "You do, too."

Her high laugh echoed through the room as she pushed a strand of white-blond hair out of his face. His partner didn't like him slicking it back, so he had gotten rid of the habit his father had pushed on him in his early days.

"I like your hair better this way," she said in a soft voice as she felt the soft texture between her fingertips. She cupped his cheeks, gently pulled his face down towards hers and kissed his forehead. "I missed you, Draco, love."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the love he felt radiating from her. "I missed you too, mother."

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the feel of someone there. After a few, short minutes, Narcissa ran a slender hand through his hair and smiled at him. She had unshed tears in her eyes that she didn't even bother to blink away - something she would have done immediately if his father had been in the room.

Draco bit back a sigh. It's always been this way. His mother had always locked away her human side whilst near her husband and Draco had not known better than to follow in her wake. His father did not appreciate them showing emotion or how he used to call it 'weakness'. At the time he had not known why he had acted like that, but during the war he had had suspicions that his father had merely acted that way to keep them safe, to protect them and teach them to not let others see what they could possibly use as a chance to attack. But he hadn't changed after the war was over, which was the one thing that made him wonder whether Lucius Malfoy really thought of emotions as weakness. If that was the case, he didn't look forward to the conversation they were going to have.

“Why did you come here for, love?” His mother’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts as she looked at him, concerned. “You don’t have trouble with the Ministry, have you?”

Shaking his head, Draco watched as relief lightened the blond woman’s face. “No, nothing bad happened. But I do have something that I need to tell you. You and –“

“Draco!”

Said young wizard raised his head and looked at the origin of the deep voice. His father stood in the door frame, a neutral, yet calm expression on his face as he looked at his only son. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his mother straighten up and tense. He just barely held back his infamous scowl as he looked his father into the eye.

“Hello father,” he said politely, because there wasn’t any love between them. He respected the man who sired him, but that was all.

“How are you, son?” The elder Malfoy asked as he walked into the room and positioned himself next to his slightly frowning wife.

“I am well, thank you, father. I have come to tell you something of great importance.”

“Is that so?” Pale blonde eyebrows raised as the grey eyes beneath them studied him with mild interest and curiosity, although their owner would never admit the latter.

“Let us go into the parlour and have some tea,” his mother said with a look towards him that clearly spoke of the tension that he felt slowly building around them. “Limpy?”

With a loud pop, a small female house elf appeared in front of his mother, bowed slightly and looked up at her with huge, watery eyes. “Mistress called Limpy, Ma’am?”

“Yes. Could you please bring some tea into the downstairs parlour? My husband, son and I would like to have a nice afternoon conversing.”

“Of course! Limpy can do that, Miss. Limpy will bring tea there immediately, Miss.” And with another _pop_ , the elf vanished.

“Shall we?”

*~*PBHB*~*

His fingers clenched and unclenched around his fragile mug as he tried not to show his nervousness. His parents sat on the settee in front of him, occasionally sipping their tea, but otherwise not trying to start the conversation he was getting desperate to have. He sighed as he put his cup back on its saucer.

“Mother, father, I have come here for a reason,” he began and sat straighter as his mother’s eyes softened at his slightly nervous tone. He could practically see her struggle of not getting up and comforting him. He swallowed and turned towards his father. He did not want to show weakness in front of him. He would not show how much this meant to him, how much this scared him.

“I have found someone I plan to spend the rest of my life with.”

There. It was out. It was said. He inhaled deeply as he forced himself to not look away. His eyes jumped from his father, who wasn’t moving, to his mother, whose face hat lightened up drastically. Her smile gave him strength to continue.

“I want you to meet him sometime in the near future. He means the world to me and I would really appreciate it if you-“

“He?” Lucius forced out between continuous coughs. He had nearly spit out his tea as his son had unconsciously given them too much information in his opinion. That couldn’t be! His son was the only heir of the Malfoy family! His son was of pure blood; blood so pure it could be traced back hundreds of years. His family had power and influence. His son couldn’t… no. No, this had to be a misunderstanding. There was no other option for this. He wouldn’t accept this… _phase_.

“Yes, father, _he_.” Draco swallowed as he heard his own voice waver. His father had gone deathly pale, his fingers were clutching onto the thin porcelain cup, his knuckles slowly turned white.

His mother sniffed and turned towards his father. He knew this would happen. He knew they wouldn’t be able to accept this. He knew they wouldn’t be able to accept anything out of the ordinary. He had been no fool. He knew they wouldn’t jump up in euphoria, exclaiming how happy they were that he had found the love of his life, but he had had hope that they would at least accept it, although the chances were close to none.

He felt his eyes tingle and lowered his gaze towards his folded hands in his lap. He didn’t know how to… how to react. It was obvious that his father wasn’t taking it very well. He knew what all of this meant for the Malfoy name. He knew men weren’t able to become pregnant – at least not yet. The research in the potion department wasn’t being still – they still looked for a method to allow wizards to carry biological children, but he knew that it would be years, hell, probably decades until they had a breakthrough! He worked for that freaking department, damn it!

“Draco, dear,” he blinked rapidly as he rather felt than heard his mother take a seat on the settee next to him. She took his hand in hers and waited until he looked her in the eye. Her smile was sad. Her bright blue eyes gazed into his, her free hand came up and cupped his cheek lovingly. Draco swallowed. She had never done this in front of his father. Never.

“Are you sure?”

Draco sniffed and laughed sadly. He knew that question would be coming. He had waited for it. “Yes,” he whispered. “Very sure.”

The smile on Narcissa’s smile softened as her eyes roamed over her son’s face. Her beautiful baby boy, all grown up, trying to fight his own demons in order to tell them the truth, trying to fight his own fears. From an early day on he had been told that he would one day marry a rich pureblood woman, one from a well-known family and provide them a Malfoy heir. He had been told it would be his responsibility to make sure the Malfoy name would be carried on. And now he was sitting beside her, his face wet with tears she was sure he didn’t know were there, his bottom lip stubbornly held in between his teeth to keep it from trembling and yet… when she looked into his eyes she saw determination. He knew what he was doing was the right thing to do – the only thing to do, but that did not make it easier for him.

“Who is that special someone?” She asked, a secretive smile on her face.

Draco sniffled softly and a shy grin started to spread over his young face. “Harry,” he breathed and an adorable blush coloured his pale cheeks.

“Harry Potter?”

They turned around and Draco flinched slightly as he saw the furious expression on his father’s face. He had stood up and was towering over the two of them, the perfect picture of pure fury.

“Lucius-“ His mother put a hand on his shoulder as she tried to calm her husband down, but he wouldn’t have any of it.

“I will not allow my son to be in a relationship with a man!” He hollered as he took as step forward, his finger pointing accusingly at Draco. “A _halfblood_ ,” he spit, disgusted, “ _Harry Potter_ at that! You will end this immediately, Draco, do you hear me? You will stop thinking with a certain part of your anatomy and start thinking like a Malfoy! With your brain! You will end it this very instance or I will-“

“You will do what?” His mother yelled and jumped up, completely forgetting about the cowering young man next to her. “I am fed up with this constant pureblood talk you can’t push aside for one moment, Lucius! This is your son! You should be happy that he has found someone who he deems worthy of his love and attention! You know he doesn’t give that to anyone lightly! You have made sure of that! You should be happy that he trusts us enough to tell us - in the full knowledge that he might possibly disappoint us!”

She stood there, trembling and breathing rapidly, staring daggers at her husband who stood in front of them, a shocked expression on his face and completely frozen. “You will accept his decision,” she said in a much quieter voice, grabbing Draco’s hand and pulling him out of the room, leaving her husband behind.

She had better things to do. She needed to meet her future son-in-law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! I always love reading and answering them!
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	3. Love is a Powerful Healing Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after all this time Harry still found old wounds that needed to be healed and as if it wasn't anything special or anything to be thankful for, he just reached out and made sure Draco was alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write about Draco Malfoy (a bad canon character) and the virtue of forgiveness as a Chaser 3 of Puddlemere United. This is once again for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (I'm getting tired of writing the full and overly long name... from now on it's called QLFC) on FFN.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (song) ‚Stitches‘ by Shawn Mendes, (word) curfew, (quote) ‘I have always known who you really are, and that’s why I love you.’ – Belle, Once Upon A Time
> 
> Enjoy :D

**Love is a Powerful Healing Spell**

“Excuse me?”

Harry gaped at the old wizard sitting behind the old oak desk he had sat in front of so many times. His facial expression was serious, neutral. The roughly twenty people that were currently scattered throughout Dumbledore’s office, all staring at him with more or less cold expressions were the least one of his worries at this moment. He blinked as he tried to take in what his mentor had just asked him to do. This couldn’t be true. He had to have misunderstood what this wise man had wanted to –

“I want you to find out who the remaining Death Eaters are and where they are currently hiding, my dear boy,” the strong voice of the white haired man in front of him broke through the confused rambling inside his head.

“I’ve heard what you said,” Harry heard himself snap, ignoring the sharp intakes of air of a few people in the room he slowly started to hate that followed almost immediately after. “I’m not deaf.”

Dumbledore looked at him over his half moon shaped glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose. His fingers intertwined as he patiently waited for Harry to regain his ability to think and understand the spoken words.

“Why do you think I would do that?” Staring straight into the blue eyes of his headmaster, he raised one eyebrow and bit back a scowl as said man took his time to take a sip of his tea, adjust his glasses and take a deep breath before gracing him with an answer. Harry frowned.

“Because, Harry, there are things that need to be done for the Greater Good and for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World.”

“ _Greater Good_ ,” Harry scoffed and laughed humourlessly. “Don’t you think I’ve done enough for the Greater Good and for the Wizarding World? I saved the school’s population more than a couple of times. I fought against Voldemort more often than I can remember, starting with when I was one and didn’t have a clue about what was going on. I _killed_ for this world, sir! I killed for a world that enjoyed it more to make fun of me, to give its best to shun me, to spread rumours about me and to completely _destroy_ me than to help me fulfil a so-called destiny that everyone was only too happy to know it was lying on somebody else’s shoulders! I had two Ministers against me, one more publicly than the other. I had teachers torture me, betray me. I watched friends get hurt, tortured, _killed_ right before my very eyes and you think that I haven’t done enough for this world?”

“Please, Harry,” a soft voice interrupted the tense silence that had filled the room after his outburst.

Harry’s head turned towards Hermione automatically, who grabbed hold of Ron’s hand as his eyes focused on her. She was nervously biting her bottom lip, her teeth leaving white marks on the soft pink flesh and her cheeks were slightly darker than usual.

“This is really important,” she said, blinking rapidly. Harry stared at her, unable to react. This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be reality! Did she not listen to one single word that he had just said? “We have to find out how many Death Eaters are still out there and the only option we have to do this is to use our only remaining Death Eater link—“

“Draco isn’t a Death Eater,” Harry hissed. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hermione move nervously from one foot to the other.

“I... I know that, Harry,” she stuttered and squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, trying to keep the tears from falling. Harry didn’t understand why she was crying as he was the only one who had the right to cry right about now! _She_ wasn’t the one who got asked – no – _told_ to spy on her partner and be happy and confident about it. _She_ wasn’t the one to be told to betray the one she loved.

“No, you don’t, Hermione.” He took a deep breath, lowered his head and pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. He was developing a headache. “Draco is my boyfriend,” he knew without looking that both Hermione and Ron flinched, “and I will not betray his trust just because someone told me to.”

“This is not about betraying anyone.” Hermione dropped Ron’s hand and stepped up to him, kneeling down next to the chair he was trying to stay in. “We have to make sure that there is no threat remaining that could cause another war.”

Harry raised his head slowly and narrowed his eyes. The bright green irises blazed and Hermione gasped softly as she saw the anger in those usually warm depths.

“ _We_?” Harry chuckled darkly as he sat up straight, causing Hermione to sink back into herself. “Do you even listen to yourself, Hermione? _You_ were the one who kept telling me that it would all be over once Voldemort was dead. _You_ were the one who kept telling me that once it was all over I could finally live a life that I deserved. Those were _your_ words, Hermione. Not mine. And now you’re telling me that you lied all along? That although I have fulfilled what Voldemort and the entire Wizarding World thought to be my duty, I have to still do whatever the important and influential people need me to do because no-one else will do it?”

He glared at the girl who had been the only person dear to him who had not once turned her back on him – until now. All of those moments when she had defended him from friends or enemies were nothing against what she was asking of him now.

Harry looked from one Order member to the other. They have been awfully quiet throughout this discussion. Looking into their faces though showed him that they were all agreeing with Hermione. Every single one of them. Betrayal shot through his veins, leaving him with an empty feeling. These people needed him, that he knew, but they needed him for the wrong reasons. He didn’t mind helping, he never did, but being told what to do never sat well with him and they should know that. They might all still be the old man’s pawns in this big game he called the Greater Good but he wouldn’t be one anymore. He had done what he had been called to do. Either they were happy with what he had accomplished or they could piss off and look for another idiot to sacrifice their life for them, just so they could lay back and enjoy the praise they got for ensuring peace.

No-one said anything as Harry stood up and grabbed his bag. He was through with them all.

One glance towards the red-haired boy standing to his right told him what his once best friend was thinking of him. The disgust in his blue eyes was obvious. He had seen it lurk in the background ever since he had told them about Draco, but choosing his boyfriend over his best friend which he no doubt thought this had been about had brought it all to the front. In an oddly satisfying way Harry was glad that it had happened that way. Seeing the true side of his friend hurt, yes, it hurt a lot, but he was also thankful for knowing that this side existed.

Ron scoffed and moved forward to Hermione, who was still kneeling on the floor, staring up at Harry with teary eyes. She didn’t move as he tried to pry her away from the chair Harry had sat in mere moments ago.

“I won’t do it,” he said in a soft voice, all energy had flown out of him and he felt exhausted. Looking up into the faces of the people he had once believed to be his friends and colleagues, he shook his head weakly, turned around and left the office and his friends behind him.

*~*Drarry*~*

It had been long past curfew when the door of the Room of Requirement opened and revealed a blond wizard stumbling into their secret meeting place. Harry was sitting on a soft dark green couch in front of the fire and stared into the flames, not reacting to the footsteps he could hear coming up to him. What had happened earlier in the evening had been bothering him and had filled all of his thoughts. He was still not over the fact that people he thought of as his family would tell him to betray a loved one.

Harry sighed and lowered his face into his hands just as Draco let himself sink into the soft cushions next to him. An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, holding him gently but tightly as his lover bent towards him and pressed his velvet lips onto his pale cheek.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Shaking his head, Harry exhaled shakily and glanced to the young Slytherin sitting next to him. A frown darkened his beautiful and flawless face and Harry complied with the urge of raising his hand and gently rubbing at the wrinkle between two perfectly formed blond eyebrows. A soft smile and a roll of light grey eyes were his reward.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Draco’s voice was low and quiet. It seemed to blend into the background noise of crackling fire and calmed his panicked thoughts down even more.

Harry sighed and leaned back against Draco’s shoulder, putting his arms around said waist and feeling the blond’s arm pull him towards him even more.

“I’ve been in Dumbledore’s office,” he murmured and started playing with a button on his boyfriend’s shirt.

Draco waited patiently for the raven haired boy to continue as he slowly started to run his fingers over the other’s arm.

Harry smiled and cuddled closer to the blond. “They asked me to...” He swallowed and pressed his eyes shut tightly. His breathing got faster, more laboured and he felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Draco whispered and kissed the top of his unruly hair, sniffling a bit as the stubborn strands tickled his nose. “You can tell me. I’ll behave.”

Harry smiled at that and looked up at a softly glowing face that looked even more beautiful in the flickering lights of the warm fire they were still sitting in front of.

“They still think you’re a Death Eater.” _Might as well say it straight out_ , Harry figured as he sheepishly glanced up to his boyfriend to see a flicker of pain and annoyance on his face. “You knew.”

“Yeah, I’ve assumed as much,” Draco sighed and rubbed over his face with his free hand. “It doesn’t matter that I am a free man according to the Ministry. That one decision has them bound to that way of thinking.”

Harry felt a stab of pain shoot through him as he watched the Slytherin next to him. He didn’t deserve this. None of this. He was a great guy and he hadn’t done anything voluntarily back then. Everyone had been forced to make decisions they’d rather not make in the first place and he had to choose the other side of the war because of the predicament his father had brought his family into. He hadn’t done it because he felt he wanted to but because he needed to in order to protect what he loved the most – his family.

“I know that, love, but others don’t think the way you do,” Draco mumbled as Harry voiced his opinions out loud. “They will always see me as one of Voldemort’s followers and it doesn’t matter to them what I did was a forced reaction or a voluntary one.”

Harry looked down sadly, nodding. He knew that but it didn’t make things easier. His fingers started to play with the bottom he had abandoned a few minutes earlier.

After a short but comfortable silence, Draco gently put his hand under Harry’s chin and pulled his head up so that he was looking at him. “But that’s not why you’re so upset, is it?”

Smiling sheepishly, Harry shook his head, getting the trademark smirk in response. “So?”

“They told me to spy on you,” he said quietly, refusing to look away as Draco raised an eyebrow. “They want to find the remaining Death Eaters that are still running around causing havoc and they think you’d be the only way of finding them because of who your family used to be in contact with.”

Harry took a deep breath and watched his boyfriend apologetically.

Draco shook his head slowly, trying to take it all in. Well, it didn’t surprise him if he was completely honest with himself. They truly believed him to still be a follower of the now thankfully dead evil wizard, so it was only logical for them to want to use that link they thought still existed between him and the dark side. He got it but if he had gotten better in something after the war it was self-control and the sense of self-worth. He still remembered the first few days after the war, being battered with guild, both emotional and physical pain and, the worst of all, longing for safety, comfort and love. Being accepted as himself was something he hadn’t been used to and still struggled with.

He had always envied Harry’s, back then _Potter’s_ , friends for having someone they could count on, someone who accepted them with all of their mistakes which Weasley was still full of. He had hurt back then and unlike then he hadn’t had his boyfriend’s loving words, gently touches and sweet kisses. He had had no one to heal his wounds back in the day.

“Say something.” The softly spoken words ripped him back into the present in which he sat on a soft couch, cradling the person he loved the most in his arms whilst being warmed by the flickering fire.

Harry gazed up into those bright grey eyes that he adored so much and held his breath. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear but he needed to hear _something_ at least! This silence was making him insane.

“Let them.”

All you could hear were the flames in the fireplace and Draco’s soft and Harry’s missing breathing.

“Breathe, love,” Draco said amused as Harry took a huge gulp of air and stared at him as if he was suddenly sporting a set of wings on his back and a horn on his forehead.

“What?”

“I said let them. I know their behaviour is wrong, but I understand it. Really, I do. Just try and put yourself into their position,” he added as the green eyes continued to look at him with a mix of wonder and confusion. “If you’d be in their place and have a friend of yours suddenly go out with, let’s say, Nott,” Harry cringed and Draco grinned suggestively, “you’d think there was something fishy about it, wouldn’t you? And if you’d want to find every evil on this planet and truly think you could use that connection between the good side and the evil side that so conveniently presented itself to you, wouldn’t you want to make use of it as well?”

Harry blinked and stayed silent. He had to admit that there was an odd truth in what Draco had just said. He hadn’t thought about it that way. All he had seen was his friends trying to jeopardise his relationship with the Malfoy heir and trying to get him into the position of the Wizarding World’s hero again. He had enough of that role and although the newspapers still loved him and still had him on their front page even after over half a year since the end of the war, he had not been happy about giving them even more juicy news to publish.

Draco watched the display of emotions running over Harry’s adorably confused face. Merlin, how much he loved this man. He had always thought this bullocks about love being the most powerful thing on earth was just that – complete and utter bullocks, but he had come to understand how exactly Harry’s parents had been able to save their son’s life. He grinned widely as Harry decided on understanding which made his eyes light up and sparkle in the most beautiful way possible.

“I have always known who you really are, and that’s why I love you,” the raven haired wizard whispered and reached up to cup his cheek in his hand. “All these years there has been someone great underneath this layer of hatred and I’ve always believed that I’d get to see your true self one time. I haven’t been disappointed.”

His plush and light pink lips stretched into a loving smile, his emerald orbs glistened with unshed tears and just as a soft thumb stroked his cheek did he realize that he was crying as well. He had not realized just how much he had needed these words.

Even after all this time Harry still found old wounds that needed to be healed and as if it wasn’t anything special or anything to be thankful for, he just reached out and made sure Draco was alright.

A smile lightened up the Slytherin’s face as Harry leaned forward and caught his lips in a sweet kiss that would forever be engraved in his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! This one was a bit trickier to write....
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	4. Meddling With Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrothed or not betrothed - Draco Malfoy is in love with Harry Potter. But the betrothal between the youngest Greengrass and only Malfoy heir is a binding contract. What to do to change the wizard's mind in the matter of love? Daphne knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was about writing a story based on Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Tricky, but so much fun!
> 
> Prompts:  
> (quote) 'Never tell a girl you like her, it makes you look like an idiot' - AVPM, (spell) Obliviate, (emotion) jealousy
> 
> Enjoy!

**Meddling with Love**

"Father, I do not want to marry her! I _will_ not marry her!"

"You will do as I say, Draco. This betrothal got arranged before you were even born. You will be obedient and marry Astoria Greengrass. And no complaint!"

"But Father--"

"Do not answer back, Draco! You will do as I said and you will do so proudly. It is your duty to follow the desire of the Malfoy's head of house. You are the only heir and I will not let you not act accordingly to your status. Now get out of my sight!"

*~*HPDM*~*

"He is nearly of age. He should have started courting me by now," Astoria frowned and gazed over to the other side of the Great Hall, where her fiancé was talking with Gryffindor's Golden Boy. "But instead he's busy flirting with Potter! I don't understand this, Daphne. Am I not beautiful enough for him?"

"You are not _male_ enough for him," her older sister scoffed as she glared over her shoulder at the blond wizard. "He should be proud to answer his family's wishes!"

Astoria swallowed back tears as she turned her eyes towards her sister. "But he isn't."

"Apparently."

Silence followed the sisters' words as they watched the couple at the Gryffindor table giggle and steal a kiss every once in a while.

"We need a plan!" Daphne exclaimed and whirled around to stare at her younger sister. Her eyes were glinting with a cunning shine.

Astoria looked back with wide eyes.

"Mother told me about a potion once. It will work. I know it will. We just need to make sure you'll be the first person he sees."

*~*HPDM*~*

Snoring was the only thing that could be heard as Daphne and her sleepy, yet alert sister sneaked down the hallway that led to the boys' dormitories. Glancing over their shoulders at every little sound they heard, they slowly made their way to the sixth year boys' sleeping quarters. A silver name plaque told the visitor who was residing in these quarters and they smirked at each other as Daphne pointed at a name in the middle of the metal plaque - _Draco Malfoy_.

The older Greengrass sister turned the handle slowly, desperately hoping that the door wouldn't creek. It didn't.

The dungeon room was as cold as the other rooms the Slytherins called their home. The fireplace near the other end of the dormitory was cold, the flames long extinguished. A total of six beds filled the quarters, three on each side of the square room.

Glancing at the sleeping faces as they went by, they looked for the Malfoy heir. Astoria jumped as Blaise Zabini snorted in his sleep. "Careful!" Daphne whispered as she glared at her sister, who was standing behind her, shivering slightly. She hadn't taken her coat with her.

The next bed belonged to their sought out person. Daphne put her bag she had slung over one shoulder down to the ground and started pulling things out of it, delicately placing them on Draco's nightstand.

Astoria watched silently as her sister pulled out a pair of Muggle rubber gloves, pulled them over her hands and picked up a small vial from the wooden surface. "Why the gloves?" The young witch frowned as Daphne shot her a look.

"The potion seeps through the skin into the blood system. I don't want to spell myself, now do I? I would instantly fall in love with dear Draco here and none of us needs another one that's running after that damn pureblood."

She leaned over him, uncorked the vial and let one drop of potion fall onto each of his eyelids. They twitched slightly as the cold liquid hit the soft skin. "Do your magic," the heir of the Greengrass family whispered as she watched the drops seep into the thin flesh.

*~*HPDM*~*

Harry tapped his foot, annoyed, his arms crossed over his chest, as he glared in the direction that he knew led to the dungeons.  He and Draco met at the bottom of the Great Stairs each morning, kiss each other hello and go to the Great Hall to have breakfast together – either at the Gryffindor or the Slytherin table. It was Slytherin’s turn today.

The bright green eyes behind the round spectacles narrowed dangerously as they watched every single student climbing up the stairs from the dungeon. As the last two – Crabbe and Goyle – shot him death glares, he knew something wasn’t right.

*~*HPDM*~*

Hermione sighed as she pushed a stubborn strand of hair out of her face. She didn’t know what was wrong but for some reason she couldn’t concentrate on her research. Professor Snape wanted an essay on the procedure of quickening the brewing process of potions and it didn’t matter which book she would pull out of the numerous shelves in the library, she would just not find the right one.

She huffed as she closed yet another tome with a loud _bang_ , earning her a disapproving stare from Madam Pince. Nothing. She could absolutely not find any information whatsoever! How was she supposed to complete this essay if she couldn’t find what she needed for it?

She gritted her teeth as she glared at the old leather-bound book in front of her. Books had never failed her before and she wouldn’t let this stupid essay cause her to feel as if they did now!

Just as she was about to pick the of dust smelling tome up to put it back into its shelf, she could hear hurried feet running into her direction, but before she could do more than open her mouth to chastise the person from running in the hallway, someone collided with her and send the old, fragile book flying out of her hand. It landed on the floor with a deafening thud. The thin spine immediately fell off the cover and landed on the cold stone floor.

Hermione gasped as she stared at the old – and now ruined – book.

“Hermione,” a soft voice whispered behind her and she saw dark hands wrap around her wrists as she reached for the pile of parchment that had once been a century old tome about the art of potion making.

The young witch turned around towards her attacker and looked into the apologetic face of her boyfriend.

“I’m so sorry I knocked you over!” Blaise Zabini said as he pulled her to her feet and behind a huge wooden bookshelf. “He kissed me!“ He hissed as peeked around the corner of the shelf they were currently hiding behind.

“Who kissed you?” Frowning, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her boyfriend.

“I didn’t do anything! I swear! He just looked at me and –“

“WHERE ARE YOU, HONEY?”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. Blaise winced.

“BLAISE, BABY, DON’T HIDE FROM ME!”

“Mr. Malfoy! Would you please stop making such a fuss?”

Blaise tense posture relaxed somewhat as he heard Madam Pince’s stern voice chastise Draco and hopefully manage to stop whatever he was planning to –

“Mr. Malfoy! You stay here! I am talking to you!”

“WHERE IS HE? I SAW HIM RUNNING IN HERE!”

“That’s it! You’re coming with me!”

“LET GO OF ME, OLD WOMAN! I HAVE TO –“

“You will join me and the Headmaster in a serious conversation about your behaviour, Mr. Malfoy!”

As Draco’s shouts drifted off, Hermione turned towards her sheepish looking boyfriend and narrowed her eyes. Blaise gulped. “What was all that about?”

Speechless, the dark-haired wizard shook his head and shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea! I swear! You have to believe me! I woke up the morning and before I knew it he was all over me, showering me with kisses…” He scowled as he slowly went out of the library, Hermione hot on his heels.

*~*HPDM*~*

Harry didn’t understand what was going on. People kept snickering when he walked past, pointing at him and whispering behind their hands so he wouldn’t hear what they were talking about. He was used to being in the centre of attention, but this was annoyingly much, even for his standards.

And to top it off, Draco had not yet deemed Harry a visit. He had not seen the blonde wizard for a whole day and as he walked through the dark corridors of Hogwarts, making his curfew round as a Prefect, he couldn’t stop wondering what this was about.

He knew his boyfriend had trouble with his father. He tried to push him in a certain dark direction and down to his knees in front of Voldemort, forcing him to bow down and kiss the hem of the monster’s robe, but Harry didn’t think that that would be the reason for the blonde’s weird behaviour. No, every time he had had problems with his father – more so than normal – he used to come straight to Harry for support and the feeling of being loved and safe. He hadn’t done it this time.

Harry raised his hand to scratch his neck. Something was strange. He could feel it. He just couldn’t put his finger on it yet.

Just as he was about to turn the corner into the East Wing of Hogwarts, he heard muffled voices from behind and unused classroom’s door. Expecting a couple making out or doing worse thing, Harry stood straight, cleared his throat and knocked against the wooden door. No answer. The voices could still be heard; it was as if they hadn’t heard him. Somewhat annoyed, Harry knocked again - still no acknowledgment of his presence. Groaning softly, he steeled himself for what he would soon witness, turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

What he saw inside the classroom made his blood run cold. He couldn’t breathe as his eyes zoomed in on his boyfriend – the exact same one that made a point in avoiding him today – tightly wrapped around Hermione’s boyfriend. Harry blinked. His mouth had gone completely dry. No, this couldn’t be true!

“Draco?” He cursed himself that he sounded like he was feeling – hurt and weak.

Blaise’s head shot up, his eyes getting bigger with the second. “Harry!” He yelled, as he saw the dumbfounded wizard stand in the doorway, his hands hanging at both sides, staring at the pair in front of them. “Please, I need he-“

Draco’s lips cut him off as the blonde threw himself at the Slytherin, successfully shutting him up. Harry felt like he was about to vomit. He couldn’t watch it – watch _them_ – any longer.

He turned on his heels and fled out of the classroom, his rounds completely forgotten. He needed to get away. Now.

*~*HPDM*~*

“HE DID WHAT?”

“Shush! Or do you want everyone to know what we’ve done?”

“But, Daphne!”

“I know, I know! We messed up, okay? We’ll fix it! I know we will!”

“But how?” The younger Greengrass sister was close to tears as she listened to Daphne’s story. “It will never work out!”

“I’ll find something! There has to be a potion for things like that!”

*~*HPDM*~*

“He did what?”

“He pushed me into an empty classroom and started to molest me.”

Hermione jaw dropped as she stared at her beet-red boyfriend who was fidgeting in front of her. They were sitting in a secluded area near the Black Lake, where other students wouldn’t directly see them – including one certain blonde wizard.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Blaise exclaimed and started gesturing wildly, nearly punching his girlfriend in the face. “Last time I checked he was all lovey-dovey with Harry and now he behaves like Harry doesn’t even exist and starts running after me! I don’t get it!”

Hermione’s gaze travelled over the surface of the Black Lake as she tried to think of an explanation for the pureblood’s weird behaviour. And however she tried to turn the events, she came to the same conclusion every time.

“You say it’s only been since yesterday that he acted like that?”

Blaise looked at her incredulously as if she had lost her mind. “I would remember if it had been going on for longer than that.”

Hermione nodded slowly, but didn’t turn her eyes away from the Black Lake. “I’m pretty sure it’s a Love Potion. I haven’t heard of one that is as potent at that one apparently is, but there’s no other explanation, really.”

Blaise sighed in relief. “Yeah. Let’s hope you’re right about –“

“There you are!”

Surprised, the young couple at the lake turned around, only to see a very pissed off Harry Potter march their way. Blaise gulped, Hermione just barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes.

“Could you please tell me what the heck is going on between you and Draco?” He hissed in a low, dangerous voice. His bright green eyes flashed with barely contained fury as he stared down at the fidgeting wizard at his feet.

“I don’t know myself, I’m afraid…”

“Calm down, Harry. I’m pretty sure he’s charmed.”

Harry took a deep breath and turned towards his best friend. “Oh yeah? And what makes you think that?”

“The fact that this has all started the second he set eyes on Blaise first thing yesterday morning.”

*~*HPDM*~*

“Obliviate me! Please!”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up as he scrutinised his horrified boyfriend as he was trying to rip his hair out of his scalp.

“I can’t believe it! WHO THE HELL DID THIS TO ME? No, wait! I know who did it!” His sparkling grey eyes flashed as he saw the Greengrass sisters walk up to them, heads hanging and apologetic, yet unsure smiles on their faces. “Father instructed you to do it, didn’t he?”

Astoria gulped, looked up to her older sister and slowly shook her head, her dark hair swinging from side to side. “No, he didn’t have a say in this. It was –“

“My idea,” Daphne raised her head and stared right into Draco’s narrowed eyes. “You are betrothed to my sister. Your family has a binding contract with my family which existed even before the two of you were born. It is your duty to answer your family’s wishes, Draco! I wanted to remind you of that.”

“Didn’t work about that will, did it?” Harry’s glare caused Daphne to flinch away from him.

“Never tell a girl you like her, it makes you look like an idiot.”

“Not helping, Blaise,” Draco hissed through clenched teeth, only succeeding in making his friend snicker merrily. He found this whole disaster absolutely hilarious since he had been freed of Draco’s obsessiveness. That though, he had to admit, had scared the shit out of him.

“Now, would someone please obliviate me, so I can forgot this bloody embarrassing disaster the whole school is gossiping and laughing about?”

“Sure thing, mate! _Oblivi_ -“

“Have you lost your freaking mind?” Harry shrieked and pushed Blaise’s hand out of the way. “No-one will obliviate anyone! Seriously!”

Draco shook his head and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this really happened,” he mumbled softly as Harry lovingly wrapped his arms around the shaking body and pulled him close. “This is so embarrassing!”

“They’ll get over it,” the black-haired wizards said in a low voice and kissed the top of the blonde’s head.

“Oh Merlin, Harry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for any of this to happen! Really! I-“

“I know you didn’t.” Pulling away slightly to look his boyfriend into the eyes, he smiled softly. “It wasn’t your fault.” A thin strand of white-blond hair fell into one of the grey eyes that were currently staring into bright green ones. “We’ll manage, love. I promise!”

And with that Harry pulled Draco towards him, gently pressing his lips onto the blonde’s, enjoying the feeling of having him in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that one! I definitely had a lot of fun writing it (probably a bit too much fun *laughs*)
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	5. Seeker's Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... next time, Draco will take the time to go back to the castle and get his bloody broomstick...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was for the Harry Potter's World forum on FFN. (Come and join us! It's a lot of fun and there are no word count restrictions or deadlines! Shamesless forum promotion hahaha) The stories submitted for that forum are always longer than the QLFC ones, because there we're not allowed to submit more than 3k words, which isn't good for the story flow.  
> With this one, I basically tried to get my house as many points as possible.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (Weather) Ice Rain, (Non-canon pairing) Harry x Draco, (Quidditch terms) Quaffle, Nimbus 2000, Nimbus 2001, Firebolt, Cleansweep 5, (Quidditch Players) Madam Hooch, Oliver Wood, Cho Chang
> 
> Disclaimer: This story ignores Oliver’s age. Don’t get confused :) Harry and Draco are fifteen, Oliver is seventeen.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

** Seeker’s Game **

It was the middle of November and the weather was unforgiving. The wind was freezing and so powerful that he was in constant danger of being blown right over. The trees were swaying dangerously and even the Whomping Willow had given up going against the wind. Draco squinted towards the sky and glared suspiciously at the dark grey clouds.

“At least the ice rain has stopped for now,” he muttered and crossed his fingers to keep it that way. He didn’t particularly fancy strolling around Hogwarts’ grounds in pelting rain that could turn him into a dripping ice statue.

But why was he outside in a weather like this, you ask? Well, Draco couldn’t take the constant wooing of Daphne Greengrass anymore.

His parents had set up a marriage contract about two years ago, binding him to Daphne’s younger sister, Astoria. Astoria was a delicate girl, very shy, thin and small. Her blonde hair looked too much like his own and her pale skin was too fair to show any contrast when being close to his. All in all, she might be of pure blood and of a good family, but she was plain boring. That wouldn’t keep him from marrying her one day, of course, but he wouldn’t waste his time trying to court her when he could enjoy his life before their bonding, now would he?

He sighed and wrapped his cloak tighter around his body. It was bloody cold and he was starting to regret fleeing like that in the first place.

Scowling at everything, he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, without really noticing where he was going. The soft swishing sound of a broom flying through the air got drowned out by the howling of the wind that was rattling at the Shrieking Shack in the distance, so, as he got onto the pitch, he froze as he saw a rather large bird swoop through the air. Squinting his eyes, he realised it was a person on a broom, not some bird of prey out of his blood.

His gaze travelled over the empty stands and stopped at a heavy looking trunk on one side of the pitch. A smirk spread over his face as he strolled over and peeked inside. Every ball was in its own compartment, the Bludgers were strapped in securely, only the small slaps that usually hit the snitch were open. His smirk widened as his head jerked upwards.

He watched the Seeker fly through the air, making risky manoeuvres and downright stupid swerves. He knew that person. After all, who else would be dumb enough to actually go flying when there could be a lightning storm coming their way?

Bending down, he picked the Quaffle out of the trunk and let it hop from hand to hand.  Its soft leather brushed against his palms as he watched the lone figure practise flying moves, all the while keeping an eye out for the snitch.

He had to admit, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that the movements had something almost elegant about them. The style of flying was different for everyone, and looking at the person in the sky right now, Draco was reminded of a hunter, almost. The movements were sharp and aggressive, the swoops fast and reckless, yet there was an odd sense of security about it. The flyer knew he had the broom under his control and nothing would happen to him. The loops and sharp turns looked smooth, almost graceful.

So, he leaned back against the Quidditch Hut that contained the main four changing rooms and showers, and prepared to watch the Gryffindor. Maybe he could find out which moves he would be using in the upcoming Quidditch match against his house? Or just enjoy the view.... Yeah, definitely the latter.

*~*Seeker’s Game*~*

Harry gripped his broom’s handle tighter. The Firebolt answered instantly, swooping down at a breakneck speed, shooting towards the ground, only to be pulled out of it at the last moment.

Adrenaline flooded through his veins as he did loop after loop, ignoring the ice cold wind against his already reddened cheeks. His hair was damp, sticking to the sides of his face.

A surprised yelp escaped him. A particularly stubborn gust of wind hit him in the side, pushing him to his left. An exhilarated grin spread over his sore face as he felt the broom vibrate softly underneath him. His old Nimbus 2000 wouldn’t have been able to balance the different directions of the wind as easily as his trusty Firebolt could and he laughed, pulling the handle up and the broom into a tight loop.

Flying always gave him the feeling of complete and utter freedom and peace. Although, he had immediately come out as soon as the ice rain had stopped, fully intending on getting a few last minute snitch catches in before tomorrow’s match against Ravenclaw, he couldn’t help it, but ignore the snitch altogether and just enjoy being out here on his own.

Being alone had been something difficult to come by as of lately. With the Order of the Phoenix reunited and active once again, he was under constant stress. He knew what it all meant – that Voldemort was getting more powerful, although no-one fully believed him.

On top of that, Umbridge was making his life hell on earth and his friends’ constant questions about what he planned on doing about his crush on Cho Chang were really trying his patience. It was true, he had fancied the Ravenclaw last year, but after all that had happened at the end of the Tournament, it didn’t feel right to act on it. If he was completely honest with himself, he wasn’t even sure anymore if he really liked the pretty Asian girl all that much....

He sighed heavily, all feeling of peace and freedom gone. The cold wind lashed against his sore skin, his wet hair about to freeze solid. He didn’t know what to think about much of anything lately. He wasn’t sure if the friendship he had had with people like Seamus had been honest in the last couple of years, if the rest of the wizarding world didn’t just want him in the lime light so that they could have someone to pull through the dirt once everything else got boring and old... even Malfoy had stopped his hateful comments.

He shook his head, pulling his broom to a stop. His feet were dangling underneath him, one hand on the handle, the other one rubbish over his forehead.

He didn’t know what to think of anything anymore and it was driving him crazy.

*~*Seeker’s Game*~*

Draco frowned as Potter came to an abrupt stop, completely giving up on catching the snitch. Hovering about fifteen metres above the ground, not moving, letting the cold wind batter his body....

Draco scowled and dropped the Quaffle back into the truck. The Bludgers gave an aggressive jerk, eager to be released, but the young Slytherin didn’t plan on doing that. Instead, he turned on his heels, pulled open the doors to the broom closet and grabbed the first broomstick he could get his hands on. Once he was back on the pitch, he took a closer look at the broom and groaned immediately.

The school brooms were just about the worst broomsticks one could find in all of Great Britain. The long since outdated models were wonky, battered and so uncontrollable that he had second thought on getting on one. The only good thing they could be used for was to swipe the street with.

He sighed heavily and forced himself to swing his right leg over the broom, kicking off forcefully as soon as he had a secure grip on the handle, and immediately regretted ever doing this.

The broom make violent jerks in all directions and started vibrating as if it was about to explode.

Draco let out an unmanly squeal as the broom lost its hold in the air and dropped two metres before remembering it had a hover charm on it. He missed his Nimbus 2001, he thought dejectedly. Maybe he should just try to land as safely and injury-free as he could and go to the dungeons to get his own broomstick? A violent jerk to the left convinced him that he would not survive a landing on this thing and instead, the blond wizard cursed and forced the handle of the broom upwards and towards the ignorant Gryffindor, who was still merely resting on his racing broom, staring blankly into space.

He tried to come to a halt right next to the raven-haired wizard, but being unable to control a broom this old and simply broken at all, he shot right past him. It wouldn’t have been that bad if he had not bumped right into the Firebolt’s tail, causing it to spin to the side and him to fly in a zick-zack pattern, screaming embarrassingly until he came to a wobbling stop.

“Bloody hell,” he wheezed out and cautiously steered the broom to his left. He nearly managed to turn it around and look at Potter from a distance, but then the damn broom gave yet another sudden jerk towards the ground. Now he was hovering about three metres underneath the very confused looking black-haired wizard, trying his best to look somewhat dignified; out of breath, sweaty, shaken and absolutely not superior. This bloody broomstick would not make a fool out of a Malfoy! Hell, no!

“Potter,” he said, the signature smirk on his face. “It’s a surprise to see you out here.”

The Gryffindor stared at him for about five second before breaking out into booming laughter. Tears started streaming down his face, as he grabbed his sides.

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed. “Yeah, yeah, let’s all laugh at the blond guy because he dared to get onto a school broom. Oh, ha bloody ha.”

That only caused Potter to laugh harder. He doubled over, now completely leaning onto the thick piece of wood underneath him. Both hands had left its handle and it annoyed Draco beyond believe.

“Have you calmed down, yet?” Grey eyes rolled as the blond waited for the insufferable and oddly adorable looking wizard to start breathing normally again.

Potter gave a few little hiccups and wipes his sleeve over his streaming eyes. A grin as wide as Draco had never seen before threatened to split his red face in half.

“Sorry,” he gasped and a new wave of giggle hit him.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“But seeing you clumsy was not something I was prepared for, you know?” His eyes sparkled with mirth and something that Draco refused to decipher.

“Yeah, you try to look elegant flying a bloody Cleansweep 5, Potter, and see who laughs at whom.”

When Potter calmed down, he swooped over to him, looking annoyingly sexy doing it. Damn it, he wasn’t helping with his stupid infatuation....

If he was honest, Daphne hadn’t been the only reason he had run out of the common room at a speed that Centaurs would be proud of. Blaise and Pansy, his two over nice, wicked and funny, if sometimes incredibly annoying, friends had been too understanding of his _phase_. He shuddered. Listening to _“Go and talk to him already”_ and _“I know you do, but being rude to him won’t make him like you, you know?”_ had done with the rest of his patience and he had simply not cared about how his retreat out of Slytherin territory had looked like. Now he wished that he had, because he was sure to have to listen people recall it for at least two months.

Draco’s scowl deepened as he looked at the subject of his fantasies and couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty upon seeing confusion wash away the carefree amusement that had made the bright green sparkle beautifully.

An unexpected jerk from his broom ripped him out of his thoughts brutally. His arms waved through the air, trying desperately to get a hold on the Cleansweep’s handle.

Potter chuckled, Draco glared.

“Madam Hooch should really get Dumbledore to invest in new school brooms, should she?”

The sparkling in his eyes was back, so Draco didn’t care that Potter was basically laughing _about_ him and not _with_ him.

“Damn right, he should! If my father cared enough, he’d probably buy a set, but neither can I be bothered to tell him, nor could he be bothered to listen even _if_ I should tell him.” Draco scratched his ear, shrugging.

He was oddly at ease around Potter, something that he would never confess to anyone but himself, and even with that he was having troubles. But people said that comprehension was the first step towards healing, right? Right.

“So,” he said, feeling slightly awkward about how Potter just stared at him. He was desperately willing himself not to blush. “Fancy a little match to see who the better Seeker is?”

*~*Seeker’s Game*~*

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw a faint pink creep over Malfoy’s cheek, tainting them in a soft rose. He was trying his best to look nonchalant and at ease, but Harry knew better. The blond lashes brushed against the rose cheeks, caressing the soft skin right underneath those silver eyes....

He gasped at his thoughts. What...? What had just...? Oh, no.

Harry shook his head to vanish those disturbing thoughts out of his mind. He was probably looking utterly insane right now, but he couldn’t care less. Had he just gushed about how beautiful Malfoy....

Wait a second! Did he just put the word _beautiful_ in the same context as _Malfoy?_ Ahhhh....

He had to get a hold on himself. He knew, he was under a lot of stress at the moment, but he hadn’t lost his mind yet... right? Or had his detention sessions in Umbridge’s office done it for him? Had she finally succeeded in turning him into the lunatic the _Daily Prophet_ swore that he was?

Bloody hell, no!

“Are you quite alright, Potter?”

The posh and oddly endearing accent made Harry blink and focus his gaze on Malfoy. The git was frowning worriedly at him, as if he.... _Worriedly?_ Oh Merlin, what was going on here?!

“’Course I am,” Harry managed to mumble and hurried to pull his broom, and thus himself, away from the adorably confused blond.

Harry was starting to freak out. What kind of char-... _curse_ had that idiot put on him to make him think things as disturbing as...?

He couldn’t think straight anymore. He had to seriously get a hold on himself; and fast!

“What are you waiting for, Malfoy,” he called over the pitch to distract both him and the handsome wizard, who hadn’t moved an inch from the spot the Cleansweep was struggling to stay on. “Up for a round of Seeker’s Game? Or are you scared that you might lose?”

Harry struggled to put on a smirk as potent as his opponent’s, but upon seeing Malfoy’s face, knew he had failed horribly.

“You wish.”

And so they swerved out towards the hoops, or at least Harry did, as Malfoy struggled to stay on the broom. Harry stifled a laugh at the last moment and decided to enjoy the view that he was being given.

Seeing Malfoy as utterly helpless as he was right now was a sight for itself, but hearing his soft and barely suppressed squeals of terror was simply hilarious.

The Cleansweep didn’t understand what Malfoy wanted it to do. It swerved down as he leaned to his left and started jerking to both sides as the blond wizard pulled on the handle.

A frustrated growl escaped through those sensual lips and Harry didn’t even notice where his thoughts were heading again, as he appreciated what was happening right now, for once subconsciously enjoying the moment.

Malfoy’s back was rigid, his muscles underneath his cloak not visible, yet easy to guess. His shoulders were stiff as he struggled with the stubborn broomstick, his legs almost desperately clenched together to keep the old and faulty flying device from throwing him right off.

Harry bit his lip gingerly, as he forced himself not to laugh out loud.

“Having problems over there, Malfoy?” he called over the pitch and started to lazily direct the Firebolt towards the centre line.

“What does it look like, Potter?” came the, surprisingly worried sounding, yet forceful, answer.

Grinning like mad, Harry decided that it was time to put the poor blond out of his misery, and he leaned forward to push his broomstick over to the other side of the pitch, just as an angry voice caused him to stop.

An annoyed groan made him glance over to Malfoy, who had managed to stabilize his broomstick enough to simply hover in the air.

As Harry followed the Slytherin’s heated gaze, he spotted a beet-red Oliver Wood storming out of the Quidditch Hut and over to the centre of the pitch.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” he screamed and started motioning them to land immediately. “Harry, get down here this instant! Malfoy! I want to have a word with you!”

“Oh, here we go,” Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned towards Harry. His cheeks darkened again and he ducked slightly. “Do you mind...?”

The Gryffindor smiled softly and steered his broomstick over to the blond, who looked really uncomfortable. Grabbing the handle of the rubbish Cleansweep, Harry’s fingers slightly brushed over Malfoy’s hand, causing both to gasp and stare at each other. His stomach made somersaults and the dark-haired boy felt lightheaded.

Staring at the blond, having the other stare right back, Harry jumped as Wood started yelling at the top of his lungs to _get the fuck down there immediately or else!_

Harry blushed deep red and nodded as Malfoy mumbled that they should probably listen to the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain to avoid any more ruckus.

As they landed, the angry seventh year stormed right over. “What do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?” Oliver yelled as he made his way over to the two boys, who were looking at each other in confusion.

“Excuse me?” Malfoy’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher until he looked as disbelieving as humanly possible. The slight down-the-nose-look fit perfectly, Harry thought, amused, and turned to his captain.

“Oliver, he didn’t do-“

“Don’t you tell me he didn’t do anything, Harry!” The older boy interrupted him with a glare. “You very well know that we have a game tomorrow, and I told you to relax and save your strength for tomorrow’s match! Do you want Chang to catch the snitch and make me look like an utter fool as a captain?” He threw his arms up in the air, exasperated.

Harry shrunk away from the yelling seventeen year old, feeling guilty. Oliver had told him to stay away from his broom for at least one day before the match against Ravenclaw because he had known that his Seeker wouldn’t have been able to relax himself for two or three days. Yet, Harry had gone and proven him wrong. Again.

“Sorry, Oliver,” he mumbled and let his gaze fall to the ground.

“Very right you are! And you!” He turned to Malfoy and pointed a threatening finger to the Slytherin, who merely sneered at him. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I will not have you either spy on our techniques, nor injure my Seeker, because you will never be good enough to beat him in a fair match!”

“Are you quiet finished?” Malfoy’s sneer widened as he glared at the Gryffindor Captain. “I merely came out here to go for a flight. That Harry was here was an absolute surprise to me when I arrived. I certainly haven’t planned on this, Merlin behold!”

Harry blinked and gaped at Malfoy as he used his first name in front of Oliver Wood, who looked ready to behead the Slytherin, cut him into bite size pieces and eat him for dinner.

“Watch out what you’re saying, Malfoy,” Oliver hissed and stepped closer to the blond. “Don’t forget that I can’t just deduct points. And Harry? We’ll talk about this later.”

Harry nodded distractedly and hurried after Malfoy, who had just upped and left in the middle of Oliver’s rant.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he mumbled as he reached the Slytherin.

Malfoy huffed and turned his head halfway towards the Gryffindor. “How can you deal with him on a weekly basis?”

“Almost every day, actually,” Harry smiled sheepishly and felt his anger towards his captain subside.

Malfoy gaped at him. “Merlin, I feel sorry for you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They walked in amicable silence.

As they reached the castle’s walls, Harry grabbed Malfoy’s arm and pulled him to a stop.

Blond eyebrows started to lift again, but the wizard stayed silent as he waited patiently for Harry to gather his thoughts. It was kind of creeping him out.

“Want to repeat that some other day?” Harry asked shyly and let go of Malfoy’s arm. “With a proper broom of course.”

A smile tucked at Malfoy’s lips, which he wasn’t quick enough to disguise. Harry grinned widely and wiggled his eyebrows at the blond suggestively. “What do you think?”

“I think Wood will never catch that snitch that you let loose and never caught,” the Malfoy heir answered snobbishly and turned to make his way into the castle, leaving Harry standing at the bottom on the steps.

Harry opened his mouth to yell after him, not quite sure whether he should feel hurt or indignant, as Draco turned around and looked over his shoulder, a soft smile gracing his handsome features.

“Thursday after dinner. Don’t be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that! I just love clumsy!Draco! :D He's too adorable :)
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	6. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson bets that Draco Malfoy won't manage to get into Harry Potter's pants and give her the story of her lifetime. One shouldn't bet with Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourites! Also, I'm sorry if there might be some mistakes in my stories. I'm not a native English speaker, so you guys might see mistakes that I don't. I hope you enjoy reading my stories nevertheless!
> 
> Prompts:  
> (word) Change, (quote) 'Wealth is the ability to fully experience life.' - Henry David Thoreau, (setting) a restaurant
> 
> Enjoy reading!

**The Bet**

"I bet that you won't accomplish getting Harry Potter into your bed and my story onto front page!" Pansy Parkinson smirked at Draco Malfoy, who had his raised cup of tea near his mouth.

"Excuse me?" His delicate blond eyebrows rose higher than ever.

Pansy took a sip of her Earl Grey. "I need a story for my chief editor and I need it to be  _big_! You know how all these rumours go about that Potter's a poof?"

Draco scoffed and put his tea cup onto its saucer. "Of course, I know. You were the one to spread the rumours."

"Yeah, I know, I know, but I need something  _real_  for my next article. People get bored with all this speculations and my editor is breathing down my neck, so I need your help to…"

"I get it." He leaned back and eyed the young woman in front of him, his fellow ex-Slytherin and best friend. A big grin spread over his face as he watched her nervous exterior. "I'm so in!"

*~*HPDM*~*

"I'm not so sure about this, Harry." Hermione frowned slightly as she watched her best friend scurry around his bedroom and gather various clothing items, a critical expression on his young face before shaking his head, throwing them away and running off again to get new ones.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. We're just going to go drink a butterbeer and maybe a firewhiskey in a pub. He asked me to meet with him to catch up and get over our past, not to shag him!"

The brown-haired witch winced slightly at the mental picture of Harry and… She shuddered. "But how can you be so sure that's what he's really planning, Harry? This is Malfoy we're talking about! Not Dean or Seamus!"

"He has changed. He seemed as if he really wanted us to get along, now that we're out of school and the war is over." He turned around, a beige pair of trousers in his hands and sighed. "I don't want to keep on with these stupid rivalries, 'Mione. I've had enough of them during the war. Just give him a chance. As will I."

"Do you really think he just wants to-"

"Hermione, don't you think we're past that stage when we kept trying to lure each other into traps?"

His best friend deflated in front of his eyes.

*~*HPDM*~*

"It was almost too easy," Draco laughed as he opened the house door to welcome Pansy inside. "It was like he seemed to be waiting for it to happen."

"Perfect!" Pansy rubbed her hands together; her eyes began to shine at the new prospect of a front page story. "How are you planning to go about this?"

"Well, I told him I wanted to catch up with him and chat about the good old times over a butterbeer-"

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

"But I've reserved a table at  _The Mermaid_ , so be there at seven tonight to get some shots." Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy squealed and threw her arms around his neck.  _Why am I even doing this?_  He thought disgruntled, as he stirred Pansy into the next room to be tended to by his house elves and left the hallway himself. He had to get ready for his date.

*~*HPDM*~*

He knocked at the plain wooden door and waited. He was dressed in a pair of deep blue trousers and a white button-down shirt – made out of silk, of course. His jacket was slung over his arm as he stood in the hallway of the house Potter had his apartment in. He could have flooed here, but he hadn't wanted to risk any soot marks on his shirt. The door opened after a short while and he put on a cheerful smile.

"Malfoy! Come on in." Potter was dressed in a similar fashion and he had to admit he quite liked how his opposite looked. His shirt wasn't that good of a quality, but it didn't look cheap either. His trousers were beige instead of blue and he wore his all-time favourite sneakers. Draco knew that because those were the shoes Potter was wearing quite often when they would meet in the Ministry. "So, are we ready to go?" Potter grabbed his leather jacket and looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, I would say we are."

"Where are we heading to anyway? The Leaky Cauldron?" Potter tapped his wand against the door knob and they could hear a soft  _click_  as it locked itself. Draco could only guess how many protection spells and runes activated themselves in that very moment.

"Actually, no. A friend recommended a location to me and I thought it fitted quite well," Draco smiled at the black-haired wizard in front of him and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Confused, Harry took a deep breath, took Malfoy's arm and was sucked into nothingness.

*~*HP*~*

Harry eyed the entrance to  _The Mermaid_  sceptically. Hadn't Malfoy said they'd go to a pub to catch up? He hadn't told him anything about going to a restaurant like a… A blush threatened to creep up his neck.  _Don't think of what this could look like! Malfoy likes women. He isn't like-_

"Don't worry, I'll explain it to you soon," Harry was pulled out of his slightly panicked thoughts by Malfoy's oddly melodic voice and warm hand on the small of his back. A shiver ran up his spine – a  _good_ shiver. Harry gulped. "But first let's go and take a seat."

Once seated, Harry stared at his former rival oddly. He didn't understand what was going on. This felt more like a date than a nice meeting with a possible future  _friend._ Well, he wasn't saying that he didn't like it – sitting at a couple's table with only Malfoy to look at, his white-blond hair almost glistening in the candle light that illuminated most of the tables and that beautiful smile directed his way – but he did wonder whether something was going extremely wrong. There were rumours about him liking men rather than women – he had had enough owls from devastated ladies to show him that people believed what the  _Daily Prophet_  was telling them – but he had never acted on these speculations of the Wizarding part of the paparazzi world. And he had planned for it to stay that way for quite some time; at least until he had found  _the one_.

Sitting at a table with Malfoy now, having burning candles between them, the silver crockery glistening beautifully, he had to ask himself whether Hermione had been right the whole time.

"I thought this would be more fitting." Harry's eyes jumped up and locked with Malfoy's pale grey ones. He had never noticed that they had a slight blue tint in them, giving them the look of ice crystals. "When I asked you out yesterday morning, I wasn't just asking for forgiveness or whatever people like me should ask for. I know this might seem strange and weird, considering how I have behaved in the past and you have no reason whatsoever to actually believe me now, but I…"

His pink lips stopped moving and the corners of his mouth twisted into a slight frown as he turned his head away from Harry. The black-haired wizards had to blink multiple times to get his brain to start working again. He hadn't noticed it froze around the time Malfoy had told him he wanted more than forgiveness.

Confused and somewhat dizzy, he turned to look at what Malfoy found so interesting that it was worth stopping his explanation and talk with him. He blinked as a bright light blinded him for a second. "What the-"

Draco smirked softly as Potter was busy rubbing his eyes.  _Perfect timing, Pansy and you're welcome._ "I guess we should continue this somewhat more private," Draco stood, took the still dumbly blinking and slightly gaping Potter's hand and, with a last rude gesture towards the reporters just outside the nearest window, disapparated.

*~*HPDM*~*

"I am so sorry! I didn't think they would find us," Malfoy closed the door behind him with a slight huff and turned around. A frown was darkening his beautiful face. Harry blinked and tried not to let his thoughts show on his face. Hermione had told him one time too many that whatever he was thinking was on display for literally everyone that knew him well enough and he wasn't that sure yet whether Malfoy was one of 'everyone'.

He smiled shakily and waved him off. "It's okay, I'm used to-"

Malfoy had taken a step forward and had started to peal his coat off his shoulders, his warm, big hands lingering a little longer than they normally would, would this be a  _normal_  catch up between old friends.  _But what is normal when I'm concerned?_  Harry asked himself, eyeing the blond wizard with a mixture of sceptical criticism and nervous exhilaration.

"Still, I am so very sorry that you had to experience that. I had thought that I had offered the restaurant enough gold to handle this sort of thing, to keep it from happening, but apparently…"

"You paid for bodyguards?" Harry gaped at the wizard in front of him who looked like it was the most ordinary thing to do when dealing with  _The Chosen One_. The blond male stopped on his walk towards what Harry could only guess was the – or a – parlour or fireplace room to look over his shoulder, his perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.

"Well, of course!" Malfoy huffed and jokily glared at Harry, causing his stomach to do a weird somersault within his body, leaving the smaller wizard dizzy and befuddled. "Wealth is the ability to fully experience life. Why wouldn't I use it to make this date as enjoyable as possible for both you and me?"

"D-Date?"

Malfoy blinked and Harry could see a subtle tint of pink colouring his pale cheeks. "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable, shall we?" Without any further ado, he turned around and hurried through the hallway towards a slightly ajar door, his head held high and his muscles tense. Harry swallowed down the tingling feeling that threatened to wander into regions he honestly didn't want to think about right now – or didn't want to do his thinking for him, as that would be more fitting.

He exhaled shakily and let his eyes travel over the interior of the  _hallway_  he was standing in at the moment – or more likely the  _hall_. The walls were made of a really dark wood he had no idea whatsoever what it was called, the floor was out of a softer toned wood and the furniture looked both old and extremely expensive. As he eyed a nearby table he wasn't so sure that it would stay intact if he was to put a wand onto its surface, but he didn't want to try his luck.

Just a mere twenty metres away from Harry, Draco stood in the biggest parlour of his mansion, pacing back and forth nervously, trying to get his confused and illogical thoughts back into order and  _function_. He didn't know what he was doing or  _why_  he was doing what he was doing. His original plan had merely been getting Potter to go out with him and thus give Pansy something she could work with for her article. And now he was acting like a total Hufflepuff, blushing and all, and was actually  _nervous_? Why? He just wanted to get something to eat and then head home, drink a nice glass of firewhiskey or something even stronger to burn away the memories of being all lovey-dovey with Potter and go to bed, preferably blacking out immediately and without a massive hangover the other day.

 _Having some firewhiskey and going to bed isn't a problem_ , whispered a seductive voice in his ear, luring his darkest dreams out of the deepest corner of his heart.  _And if you don't black out, you'll need some entertainment_. Draco gulped as he felt a promising twitch in his trousers. He exhaled shakily. "I'm never going to survive this," he whimpered and hurried over to the wine cabinet to select one of the finest wines he had to offer. "Never."

"Are you okay?"

Draco jumped and nearly dropped the bottle of expensive wine. "Y-Yes. Yes, of course, I'm okay. Please, take a seat." He pointed towards the loveseat that stood in front of the fireplace. With a flick of his wand a fire erupted in the hearth.

"You owe me an explanation," Potter said. His green eyes were opened wide and glistened behind these stupidly adorable glasses as he watched Draco open the bottle of light blue wine and pour the exquisite liquid into two delicate looking glasses, offering one to Harry, who took a cautious sip.

"Indeed, I do." He cleared his throat nervously and hesitantly sat down next to his object of desire that looked a little bit afraid as if he didn't know what to expect. If Draco was honest with himself, he didn't know that either. He hadn't even known he fancied  _Potter_  of all people. At the moment he still hoped this unexpected turn of…  _feelings_  was only of physical nature. Because he had to admit… Potter was fit!

As Malfoy sat down, his finger brushed against Harry's thigh, causing him to tense and supress a shiver. "I want to be honest with you, Potter," he put the wine glass onto the brightly polished surface of the coffee table and put his now free arm over the back rest of the little sofa they were sitting on. Harry could feel his body heat seep through their layers of clothing and into his skin, heating his body… too much. He squirmed slightly as his trousers started to get uncomfortably tight.

"I've had little constants in my life and one of them was you. I have had a lot of time to think after the war and I-" Malfoy's pink lips were moving, but Harry couldn't hear a word. Every once in a while the blond wizard's tongue tip would move to wet these soft-looking lips, leaving behind a trail of glistening beauty. Harry swallowed and bit his lower lip. What would they feel like if he would just… move… now…

A warm hand sneaked onto his shoulder, pulling Harry out of his out-of-control thoughts. He shook his head to get rid of the confusion and lust that's been making it almost impossible for him to think straight. "Malfoy?" He said in a soft voice, trying to ignore the heat that was seeping into his nether region, originating from the warm hands on his shoulder and thigh. When Malfoy had decided on putting his hand on his thigh though was completely missed by the blushing Harry, who found it quite difficult to organize his thoughts with those silver eyes staring right back at him. "What is this all about?" His voice sounded weaker than he had anticipated. Malfoy smiled softly. Harry gulped. "I mean, how come that you show interest all of the sudden? We haven't been in contact for the last three or four years now, so why…?" He froze as a thin, delicate finger was gently put onto his lips, shutting him up quite successfully.

"I don't think of this as a fling, Harry," his voice was seductive as he leaned forward and started to nibble at his neck, succeeding in sending pleasant shivers down Harry's spine. "I've thought about this for a while now and I just cannot wait any longer. I have changed, Harry. Please, believe me, I have. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, so if you're not ready or don't feel the same-"

He was shut up as Harry's lips met his.

*~*HPDM*~*

" _Pansy!_  What the hell are you doing here?  _Get out_!" Draco hissed as his best friend peaked into the room, a big grin on her face. Hurriedly, he grabbed the white satin blanket off the bed, wrapped it around himself and rushed over to the door in order to push the nosy woman out of the manor before Harry saw her.

"Relax, I just wanted to see how it was going," she snickered and eyed the hastily thrown-over blanket that Draco was clutching onto like a lifeline. "So, your elf was right then. You  _do_  have a guest." She wiggled with her eyebrows, her grin widened even more.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Draco tried to push the stubborn Pansy out of the bedroom. "Just leave, damn it! Leave before Harry-"

"Oh, it's  _Harry_  now, is it?"

"Just get the freaking hell out of here, Pansy! I mean it!"

"But I want to greet your guest before leaving. It would be quite impolite otherwise, don't you think?"

Before Draco could do more than growl threateningly, the bathroom door opened and a thick cloud of steam, flowed by a half-naked Harry Potter came out, the latter freezing at the sight in front of him. "What's going on here, Draco?" Pansy giggled and fumbled inconspicuously with her camera. "What's  _she_  doing here?" His dark eyebrows drew together as he watched Draco fidgeting and Parkinson nearly bouncing up and down with… His eyes zoned in on the camera.

A sharp pain shot through his chest. No, that couldn't be… Draco had said that he meant something to him… That  _this_  meant something.

His narrowed eyes searched Draco's silver ones, demanding, pleading for an explanation, but Draco could only open his mouth, unable to give him what he so much longed for. He needed to explain that this wasn't what it looked like, that this wasn't what Harry was thinking, but it  _was_ , although he didn't feel like it anymore.

Harry swallowed down a wave of sadness, betrayal and pain as he hurried to pick up his clothes and turned to leave the room, leaving a broken Draco behind.

*~*HPDM*~*

Angrily wiping away the tears that streamed down his face, he ran to the door, pushed a giggling Pansy Parkinson out of the way and hurried out of the room. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. _No_ , his inner nasty voice purred in his ear, _this is Malfoy we’re talking about. You should have seen it coming._ A sob escaped him and he fastened his pace.

“ _Harry!_ ”

Draco cursed, grabbed the blanket tighter and made to run out of the room and after the dark-haired man that was rushing out of the house at this very moment and maybe even out of his life if _that damn Pansy didn’t move out of the fucking way already!_

“Move!” He hissed angrily at the smirking witch in front of him.

“Why should I?” The smirk widened as she saw Draco getting redder with the minute. “This is quite amusing to watch. Have you seen Potter’s face?” She laughed. “He’s such a poof, oh Merlin! It was hilarious!”

“Get out of the fucking way!” Draco’s eyes ran over the interior of the room behind her. It was empty. “I need to-“

“You need to what? Calm down, Draco! We’ve got what we wanted. You won the bet and I got my front page story. Everything’s brilliant and I’ll be the editor’s favourite for bringing him the story of his lifetime! I can see it printed already. The words above the picture of the half-naked darling of the wizarding world, ‘Harry Poof, it’s all a farce!’” Her laugh was high and way too loud and Draco pushed past her and dragged the blanket with him out of the bedroom. “What are you doing?”

But Draco ignored his former best friend as he ran across the parlour into the huge hallway. He was panting. Jerking his head left and right, Harry was nowhere to be found. A bad feeling settled itself into the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t wanted this to happen! Any of it! He hadn’t wanted to ruin what could have been, no, what _had been an amazing night_ been an amazing night!

He cursed as his eyes fell on the slightly open front door, letting rays of sunshine stream into the hallway. Wrapping his silk blanket tighter around his waist, he started running out of the heavy front door, onto the gravel path outside the manor. Birds were chirping left and right, the sun was shining, the flowers were bright and colourful, but everything Draco could see was the lone figure at the end of the path, loaded with clothes, that was coming to a hold just outside the Anti-Apparation wards.

“ _No_ ,” Draco whispered and started running. Forgotten was his blanket that lay on top of the stairs leading to the manor, forgotten was the witch that was standing in the hallway, watching a very naked Draco Malfoy run away from his house, because all he could see was the dark-haired wizard who stopped, turned around and, with a spin, disappeared into thin air.

*~*HPDM*~*

A sob escaped him as he threw his clothes onto his bed, just as his knees gave way underneath him. He sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

He should have known! He should have known that Malfoy didn’t want anything from him except gossip material! And he had given it to him willingly, acting like a love-struck teenager, giddy to stay the night at a lover’s house! A shudder ran through his body as he picked himself up, swaying slightly. He felt disgusting! He had actually believed him when he had said that he had changed! He had actually believed him when he had said he wanted to try it!

Harry pushed down his trousers and walked into the bathroom, clad in nothing but boxers. He had to take a shower. He felt dirty.

The steam fogged up every mirroring surface in the room, creeping into his lungs. The hot water splashed down on him as he stood in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the warmth seeping into him, into his skin, trying to cleanse it. How could he be so stupid? He shook his head and rested a hand on the wall, leaning against it, suddenly exhausted. The salty tears mixed with the hot water, running down his face and body until he couldn’t cry anymore.

He should be used to it by now, he told himself and sank to the ground, trying to enjoy the hot rain. He was used to everyone wanting to know what was going on in his private life, his _love life_. The papers were dying to get an exclusive interview with _The Conquerer_ or whatever the hell they were calling him nowadays. They had even tried to drug or hex him in order to get the most honest interview in the history of love life interviews, but thankfully Hermione had been there to keep him from any harm.

“Oh, God! _Hermione!”_ He groaned as the smart witch came into his mind. She had told him! She had warned him! She had been sceptical when Harry had told her about his meeting with Malfoy! She had told him that she thought it was a trap! And he had not listened to her. He should know by now that she was usually right! He _did know_ she was usually right, but he had decided, against his better judgement, to not listen to her _again_. Just like the time with Sirius. Hadn’t he learned out of his mistakes? Hadn’t he learned by now that he should at least listen to Hermione out of all people when she thinks there’s something wrong?

He ran his hand over his wet face. There was no use beating himself up over it. It happened and by tomorrow, the whole wizarding world would know he was gay and easy to get. He sighed and stood up. He had to get on with his life and he had to get over this stupid trap, but most importantly, he had to get in touch with Hermione. She would know what to do!

He turned off the water and grabbed a towel, which he used to run through his wet hair. Trickles of water ran down his neck and over his broad chest as he wrapped a dry towel around his waist and ran his fingers through his tangled hair, in hope of at least flattening it somewhat. He sighed. It looked even worse than before. Throwing the wet hair towel into the washbasin, he opened the door. A cloud of steam followed him outside and he froze.

There in the middle of his bedroom stood no other than Draco Malfoy himself, wearing what looked like a button-down shirt, inside out, a pair of chinos and no shoes or socks. His hair was dishevelled and his cheeks were slightly pink. He looked nervous as his eyes travelled over Harry’s naked chest, down over the towel around his waist, to his bare feet. Harry blushed almost immediately; his heart started beating twice its normal speed. His hand jerked towards the towel, securing it in place.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was deadly calm, but his head was spinning. How did he get in? Why did he come here? What else did he want?

“I came to apologize.” Draco winced as he saw the dead look in Harry’s bright green eyes. They glared at him as if they wished for him to drop dead this instant. “I didn’t want it to escalate like that.”

“You didn’t want it to escalate like that?” Harry started laughing loudly. Draco stared at him with wide eyes. “Why? Didn’t you plan for Parkinson to find us in the same room? In the morning? _With no clothes on?_ ” His voice was getting louder with each question. Draco took a step back.

“Didn’t you want her to come in and take a picture of me after we’ve spent the night together? Didn’t you want her to follow us for the whole evening and collect proof that I am very much not straight? That I am as gay as a man can be? Didn’t you plan for that to happen?” He screamed and pointed his finger at Draco, who started to tremble slightly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t plan for everything to happen, because you did!” He huffed and took a deep breath to calm himself down.

“You know what? Hermione warned me. She told me that I should be cautious around you, that you weren’t what or _who_ you seemed to be. Why would you suddenly decide that it’d be a great idea to catch up and get over our past, to start anew? To maybe be friends? I actually believed you, you know? I actually told my best friend that we were past that phase when we used to try everything in our power to lure each other into traps! Seems like I was wrong. Again.” Harry turned around and started to pick up his clothes that were lying on the bed. “I actually thought you wanted to make a truce.”

“I do! Believe me, I do!”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry laughed and whirled around. “You have a weird way of showing that!”

Draco stared at the very angry-looking Harry Potter in front of him. He was fuming. His handsome face was red, his beautiful eyes flashing and his adorable hair pointing in every direction. His fit body was still glistening with drops of water that ran out of his hair and caressed every perfect curve of the porcelain skin. Draco swallowed as he felt his blood flow in a direction he did not want it in at the moment. “Will you let me explain?” His voice was a mere whisper. He didn’t trust himself to speak normally, as he feared his voice might crack with the pressure that was lying on his shoulders right now. He wanted Harry to see! He needed Harry to see and he couldn’t fail!

A perfectly shaped black eyebrow rose and Draco took that as his sign to get going. So he took a deep breath and told him everything. He told him about Pansy’s idea with the bet, him accepting it in order to prove not only her but himself that yes, he could manage to manipulate someone as powerful as Harry, but also that – his voice hitched slightly. He wanted to see whether all the things he had noticed in the past were mere imagination, normal things that everyone would notice or whether they had their origin in something more meaningful, something his family was sure to use as a reason to disinherit him. According to his family it was a shame for a pure-blood wizard to be attracted to… _men_. Being part of a pure-blood line and being male held high responsibilities. He had to carry on the line of his family name. He wouldn’t be able to do so without a pure-blood woman by his side.

“Believe me, I’ve tried everything. I’ve talked to my parents about it – without telling them anything specific, of course. They don’t know the reason why I asked. I guess they think I’m interested in carrying on the Malfoy name and want to do it perfectly. I’ve tried talking to Pansy, but you’ve seen how she’s acting. She wouldn’t understand. I’ve considered talking to Blaise as there have been rumours in Hogwarts that he might not be straight either, but I didn’t want to risk either his or my reputation by asking, in case those rumours were just rumours indeed.

I have tried to compare men with women when I was in Diagon Alley and I’ve noticed more nice and good-looking features on men than I have noticed women having any. I was unsure. I was afraid and I was – I have to admit – disgusted.” Draco’s eyes lowered to the floor as he tried to find honest words. “I don’t want to be different, you know? Well, no, that is wrong. I have not wanted to be different, but now I know that there’s nothing wrong with _being_ different. It might not even be that we’re different. Maybe the straight people are different? At least that’s what I’m trying to tell me.”

He told him that the only possibility for him to find certainty and peace was this silly bet and Pansy gave him the best cover to experience a change in his life. “First I really thought it would be a fun feature to embarrass you. Getting knowledge about my… possible different orientation would only be a plus I told myself, but…” He sighed and ran a hand through his still untidy hair.

Harry felt tingling butterflies do somersaults in his stomach. Seeing the dishevelled Draco Malfoy standing in front of him not being his perfectly organized self, stuttering for words, missing his gel and shoes, he felt an odd warmth spread through his body. Draco Malfoy was a pure-blood wizard to whom it was very important to be collected, strong and self-assured and yet he wasn’t anything but perfect in Harry’s eyes. He swallowed and shook his head slightly as Draco shifted and glanced up to him, looking through his bangs that hang into his beautiful face.

“I didn’t know that this was what I found out. To be honest, I didn’t want to think about it being a possibility, but having spent last night with you…” A shy smile crept onto his face. His pink cheeks highlighted his bright grey eyes as he tried to, once again, find the right words. “I don’t want to go back to how it used to be! I don’t want to act as if nothing has changed because something _has_ changed. _I_ have changed.” He blinked as his cheeks darkened.

Harry bit back a smile.

“So, I came to apologize to you about… everything. I’m sorry about how I acted, how Pansy acted, that Pansy was even _there_ , that the bet existed, that you had to find out that way, that I’ve hurt you, that I’ve-“ His rambling was stopped with two very soft lips pressing against his softly, melting against his. He gasped and Harry took this opportunity to run his tongue along Draco’s teeth, teasing and testing. A shudder ran down Draco’s spine and straight to his groin. He moaned softly as Harry’s hand touched his cheek gently, letting his tongue explore the insides of Draco’s wonderful tasting mouth.

Gasping for air, they soon had to draw back. Draco’s eyes were still closed and his lips slightly parted as Harry watched his lover tenderly, ran his fingers along his hair line, over his temple and cheek, along his jaw and stopped at his slightly swollen pink lips. The blond wizard opened his eyes and looked into bright green ones that were watching him intensely. He blushed.

“What?” He whispered softly and blinked up at Harry, running a hand through his still wet hair and enjoying the way the black-haired man sighed contently.

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured.

Draco felt his heart swell. Harry forgave him! Harry actually forgave him! A grin spread over his face, lightening up the whole room. Harry opened his eyes and pressed a small kiss onto the tip of Draco’s nose.

“But that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you anytime soon for Parkinson’s front page story!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya :D


	7. The Bracelet's Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter loves Draco Malfoy, but Draco adores one special piece of jewelry that he didn't know Harry knew about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely one of my favourites and a rather new one as well.
> 
> Prompt: Write about someone keeping a minor secret.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

** The Bracelet’s Charm **

Draco scowled as yet another pair of hateful eyes followed him through Diagon Alley. It had been a while since he had been able to walk out into the public without getting scornful remarks thrown at him or being hexed from behind.

As it had been for everyone, the war had had its effects on his life. When he once had a family name that brought on respect in the minds of the citizens of England, it now brought disgust, anger and pity in those, who thought themselves better than the rest.

Being in the limelight had never bothered him; quite the contrary in fact. Being in the centre of attention was what he had thrived, what he had wanted to achieve, but as he walked through the once again busy shopping street of wizarding London, he scoffed at his old self.

Being seen by everyone wasn’t a good thing, just like Harry had always said. People had their own opinions about you, thought things to be true that couldn’t be more wrong.

Draco lazily raised his wand and swished it through the air. A shield charm built up right behind his back just in time to deflect a mild stinging hex sent his way. He didn’t even make the effort to turn around to look at the culprit, because he simply couldn’t be bothered anymore.

He never had his wand far away from his fingers; it was always within reach. Before the war, it had been to make sure everyone saw that he was prepared to fight whenever the need arose. Now, after the war, it was because he needed it to keep himself in one piece.

Being a marked and convicted Death Eater had more disadvantages than it had advantages. Scratch that. It _only_ had disadvantages. Going out with the one and only Harry “The Saviour” Potter didn’t help either. Again, it probably made things only worse.

He had overcome the constant bitterness that had clouded his mind right after the war, and when he thought back now, he had to admit that he had been like that before and during the fateful war as well. Never being good enough to best Harry Potter, never being good enough to make his father proud, never being good enough to not be a pity case for the boy who lived....

Draco shook his head rapidly to dispel the depressed thoughts. Harry had helped him throughout the years, had shown him that there was more to him than just the magical ink in his skin or the surname on his birth certificate. He knew that now and he kept telling himself that the rest of the wizarding population would one day find the knowledge as well. That there would be a day in the future when he could walk about of his and Harry’s shared flat onto the street, enjoy the birds chirping and the warm rays of sunlight on his skin and just watch wizards and witches walk past without even shooting him a glance.

Lost in his own hopeful thoughts, he didn’t notice his feet taking him down the Alley, past Ollivander’s shop that had reopened right after Voldemort’s fall, and even right past the apothecary, his original reason why he had dared to leave the sacred flat.

Walking over the cobbled street, he strolled over to a specific shop that he had sought out regularly ever since he had been free of any war related burdens. It was a little trinket shop. Filled to the brim with little statues, amulets, goblets and decoration items, the shop’s window looked anything but inviting. At first, Draco hadn’t even spared this rundown shop a glance, but as he had caught sight of one particular item, he couldn’t help but come here every now and then to check whether it was still there.

The object that had caught his interest was a delicate looking bracelet made out of silver. The ornaments that were engraved in its surface were ancient looking runes. He had never seen anything like it before. The emerald gems sitting at the clasp were small and sparkling, but didn’t do much to make the bracelet look fancier. It was a simple piece of jewellery, delicate enough to wrap around a woman’s wrist, but not too feminine to be clasped around a man’s arm.

Draco sighed wistfully as he looked at the bracelet. He didn’t know what it was about this piece of silver, but it had an odd call to him, as if the runes were made to lure in customers, which he sincerely doubted.

He stared at the engravings, trying to take the runes’ shapes in, the way the jagged looking lines were intertwined with each other and built up a foreign looking pattern, but like each time he knew that he would have forgotten the look of the symbols as soon as he turned around. Maybe there was some kind of spell on it to make him forget everything but the way it felt looking at it? Or maybe that was the purpose of those runes – making it impossible to recreate it? Whatever was the truth, it made it impossible for him to look up the meaning and the origin of those engravings.

Before the war, he would have just marched into the shop and bought the bracelet, but that was how his old life had worked.

After the war had ended, the Ministry had decided to charge each and every powerful family that had either been associated to the dark side or actively taken part in it with payments for repair works. Buildings had to be put up again, families had to be helped financially, as well as the general _this is your fault it all happened in the first place, so we’ll take your money to make you feel like shit_ -business the Ministry was very quick adopting.

So, long story short, the Malfoys had to say goodbye to one Manor, three landside houses, two libraries, all of the political alliances and about three-quarters of what had been lying in their Gringotts vaults. The main family vault had been confiscated; Draco and Narcissa’s vaults on the other side had merely been emptied out until only a very small amount of gold had remained.

The Malfoy family was history and, surprisingly, Draco had been okay with it. Centuries ago, being a Malfoy had really meant something, yet with all the negative news coursing around, involving bribery, murder and robbery, the shine had quickly worn off, leaving behind a family name to be disliked, if not hated.

Looking at the price tag next to the bracelet now was like a punch in the gut, and a powerful one at that.

Casting a quick _Tempus_ charm, he started at seeing the time. He was to meet Harry at the Leaky Cauldron in about ten minutes, which meant that he had stood here for at least one hour, staring at a piece of jewellery like a creep.

Draco slapped his hand over his eyes and groaned. That thing definitely had some kind of charm or curse on it. Maybe it wasn’t that bad that he didn’t have enough money to spend freely like he used to....

One last glance wouldn’t hurt, he decided, and turned back towards the silver bracelet, lying innocently behind the shop’s window.

_ One day _ , Draco thought wistfully and forced his feet to start moving into the pub’s direction.

*~*The Bracelet’s Charm*~*

Harry glanced at his watch as he took another sip of his butterbeer. He had been supposed to meet with Draco about ten minutes ago.

A nervous twitch shot through his leg, making it jump up in down in restlessness. It wasn’t like Draco to be late to a meeting, especially if said meeting was a mere lunch break. Did something happen to him? Draco might not want him to know or even bother him by complaining, but Harry wasn’t ignorant. He saw the hateful looks his boyfriend got and, although being with him had helped at first, the people had grown used to seeing the two of them together and had basically stopped caring about the annoyed and angry looks they received from Harry in return.

He didn’t tell the blond wizard how he felt about all of this because he didn’t want to cause him any more worries, but he didn’t like it. He understood only too well that Draco wanted to go outside on his own every once in a while, to walk through the streets of London without being held by the hand and protected from mean people, but Harry didn’t like it one bit.

Having grown up the way he had, though, he forced himself to give Draco his much needed freedom and independence that he himself had not been trusted with when he had needed it the most. Situations like this, sitting in a crowded pub, clutching the bottle of butterbeer as if it would keep him grounded....

Harry was an Auror at the Ministry and, according to Minister Shacklebolt, on his best way to make it to the top position of the Auror department. He knew what dangers lived outside the safe walls of their home and he also knew about so called _worried_ citizens that made it their duty to hunt down former Death Eaters and make them pay as they see fit.

Just as he was thinking about leaving his half finished beer behind and go look for his boyfriend, the door to the pub opened and a flushed blond came rushing in. Harry was on his feet immediately as he took in the dishevelled appearance of the blond and made to hurry over to the doorway, but Draco looked at him calmly and motioned him to stay where he was. It took every ounce of self-control that Harry called his own to do as he was asked, and made himself sit back down, grab his beer and watch the blond wizard walk over to the bar keeper and ask for a glass of white wine – as always.

Draco carried his glass of wine over to the table Harry was sitting at and took a seat next to him. Leaning back, he allowed himself a short break.

Getting back through Diagon Alley, all the way to the other end, had been a difficult task to master. With his thoughts still hefted on that bracelet, he had walked right into a group of wizards, who had used that excuse to verbally attack him. He had just managed to make a dignified run for it when one of them had drawn his wand.

He took a deep breath and let his head fall onto Harry’s warm shoulder. His lover’s scent wafted into his nostrils, filling him with a sense of calmness and security. As a strong and muscular arm wrapped itself around his waist and pulled him into the warm body, he had to smile.

“Hey,” he mumbled softly as he inhaled deeply. The soft material of Harry’s shirt rubbed against his cheek. “How was your day?”

His pillow took a deep breath which made his head raise and fall gently. “Okay, I guess.” His low voice drifted over to him.

Being with Harry, no matter where they were at that moment, was as if they were in a world of their own. He didn’t think about anybody else, didn’t see anybody else and didn’t care about anybody else but that wonderful man, who was holding him securely against the side of his gorgeous body.

“What about your day?” the handsome man in his arms asked softly, his hand running gently lines along his side, making him shudder in pleasure.

“Alright,” Draco sighed.

He didn’t want to worry Harry more than necessary. He might not act like it, but Draco was sure that his boyfriend knew what was going on and didn’t tell him because he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He knew how much Draco needed the feeling of independence, although the pureblood knew very well that his freedom was simply an illusion. He was still dependent on the support of others, mostly his boyfriend.

Harry didn’t say anything. He knew that tone and he knew that the blond’s day had been anything but alright, but he didn’t want to stress it. No need to pull the attention on how crappy his life had gotten after the war. Eventually, they would talk about it, but that had time.

For now, he wanted to make sure that his partner was content and happy. That was what was more important right now.

*~*The Bracelet’s Charm*~*

Hermione gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared at a nervously fidgeting Harry sitting in her and Ron’s living room. Tears were starting to form as Ron cleared his throat.

“Are you sure, mate?” he asked softly and forced himself to sit down in front of his best friend. His freckled face was pale and his blue eyes huge as he watched the black-haired wizard nod.

“Bloody hell.”

A nervous smile twitched over Harry’s face.

He had known for quite a while that it would come to this, but he had only made a conscious decision about a week ago. They had spent a nice and very cosy evening at their flat, sitting in front of the fire and simply enjoying a moment of quiet. Draco had had his arm thrown over Harry’s stomach; Harry’s arm had drawn the blond wizard even closer. He had loved the way this beautiful man had felt lying next to him and looking at him at that moment had done it for him.

The flames had been flickering softly, crackling quietly in the background. The warmth coming from the fireplace had flushed Draco’s cheeks, leaving them in a lovely pink shade. The sparkle in his light grey eyes as he had raised his head off his shoulder and gazed up at him, the loving smile that had grazed his lips, the golden locks that had looked almost like a halo around his handsome face.... At that moment, he had known that he wanted no-one else by his side. He wanted to grow old with this man next to him, share good and bad experiences, go through happy and sad times, but do so together.

A high-pitched squeals pulled him out of his happy place and before he knew it, his vision was obscured by a massive, bushy-haired, brown head as Hermione squeezed life itself out of him.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy for you!” she screamed right into his ear. Tears were flowing freely from her eyes, wetting his shirt as they seeped into the soft material. “I can’t believe this is actually happening!”

Sniffling loudly, Hermione pulled away from him and gave a teary laugh. “Did you ask him yet? When will the wedding be? Oh, will you have a wedding or a magical bonding ceremony? I have heard that those two things are completely different from each other since –“

“Geez, Hermione, take a break to breathe, will you?” Ron stared at his girlfriend with a slightly horrified expression. “Let the man get his rips in order before bombarding him with questions.”

His eyes were twinkling happily as the brown-haired witch slapped his arm lovingly.

“So? Have you asked him yet?” his best friend asked, grinning madly.

Harry blushed even more and forced himself to not look down on his hands that were bunching up the material of his shirt. “Not yet,” he said and smiled shyly. “I want to do this right. You know how Draco can get if he doesn’t have something like this his way.”

Hermione nodded. She was trying her best to stay serious, but was failing spectacularly. “You need a ring.”

“Actually,” Harry hesitated and gave himself a moment to enjoy his friends’ excitement, “I thought about getting him something else.”

Hermione raised her eyes and actually looked confused. Ron smirked, probably thinking about something inappropriate.

“There’s a rather odd shop down Diagon Alley and they have a bracelet for sale. It doesn’t look anything special, but I know that Draco fell in love with it a while ago. He thinks I believe his excuses of having to go back to Diagon Alley to buy potions ingredients because he keeps forgetting to get everything. I’ll get it tomorrow after work.” Harry rolled his eyes. He just loved how adorably ignorant his hopefully soon to be fiancé was. It was endearing.

Hermione started to coo softly. “That is so sweet!”

“You can’t tell him, though!” Harry hurried to add as he felt his face burn bright red at Hermione’s declaration. “I want to surprise him.”

Ron smirked mischievously. “Good luck, mate. I’m happy for you.”

*~*The Bracelet’s Charm*~*

Draco sighed relieved as he closed the door of their flat behind him. It was Saturday and he had just told Harry that he needed to, again, apparate to Diagon Alley – _alone_ – to get some much needed potion ingredients that he had forgotten the last time he had been there.

_ What _ ? He was crap at coming up with excuses that didn’t repeat themselves! If he thought about it, it was probably positive that the good reputation of the Malfoy name wasn’t existent anymore, because he would have made one _crap_ of a politician with his lying skills. Actually, he was surprised that Harry hadn’t called him up on it yet, but his boyfriend seemed to be a bit distracted to really fully understand what he had said to him just before grabbing his coat.

Humming softly, he hurried down the long hallway, down the stairs and out of the house. The wind was picking up as it was slowly getting colder, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He walked down the street, trying not to attract suspicious glances from Muggles he was marching past, and ducked into the next best alleyway. Looking over his shoulder one last time to check for any stray non-magical folk, he took a deep breath and turned on the spot.

Within the next ten minutes, he made it through the very crowded pub, past the hateful glares and through the wall into Diagon Alley. The shopping street of wizarding London was packed with witches and wizards alike. As it was the weekend, he hadn’t suspected anything less. Had it been about half a year ago, he would not have set a foot into this part of London on a busy weekend day; a day on which all of the shops were opened. But it wasn’t the start of the year and he wasn’t who he had been back then, so he held his head high as he ignored every person that simply gave too many gnomes.

He had not, however, thought to not find what he came for.

As he had reached his destination, the odd trinket shop at the other end of Diagon Alley, he had stopped immediately. His eyes had jumped to the exact spot in which the bracelet had waited for him to look at it day after day, week after week, yet, as he was standing in the busy shopping street, being bumped into, he was staring at a spot of dusty looking red satin. No bracelet was to be found anywhere in the over-decorated shop window.

Draco felt a cold wave of shock wash over him. He was too late. Someone had bought it and he had not been able to look at it for a last time or even find out who had paid for it.

Blinking slowly, he inhaled deeply, trying to calm down his racing heartbeat. It was just a piece of jewelry, nothing majorly important, after all. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

He had known that he would never be able to afford something as stunningly beautiful and he had sworn to himself to not ask Harry for money. That was something a Weasley would do, not something a Malfoy would allow himself to even think about. But now, standing here, feeling oddly detached from the world, he started to wish that he had been able to push his misplaced pride away and simply accepted Harry’s generous offer to buy him things.

Before he knew it, his feet had once again started moving on their own accord and a trembling hand raised to push against the shop’s front door. A high chime echoed through the crammed room as Draco set a foot over the threshold.

Dust was flying through the air, dancing in the few rays of sunlight that had sneaked their way through the dirty window of the shop. He tried not to inhale too deeply. The walls were covered by shelves filled to the brim with... stuff. He couldn’t even find more accurate names than _something black_ , _something metal_ , _something humming_ and _something he had never seen before_.

A rough cough made him jump and whirl around. A grey and slightly faded looking man was standing behind the counter, his left eye was staring at the nearly shelf, his right was watching Draco with an eerie level of interest.

“Can I help yer, boy?” he asked. His voice was hoarse and it sounded as if he had difficulties to talk.

Draco blinked. “Um,” he hesitated and nervously scratched his neck, a habit he had adopted from Harry. “Actually, I just wanted to ask you whether you sold the bracelet that was lying on display.” He wasn’t used to being talked to in public anymore, at least not in the somewhat civil tone the shopkeeper used.

“Obviously,” the old wizard said and coughed.

Draco waited for a few moments, but the shop owner didn’t continue speaking.

“May I ask who bought it?” he added, hoping desperately that he didn’t get yelled at by the dirty looking man that was currently wiping his hand underneath his nose and rubbed it off on his stained shirt. Draco suppressed the urge to retch.

“Young man bought it th’ other day,” the wizard added and nodded towards the display window behind Draco. “Paid more ‘an it was worth, to be honest. Pleasant customer.”

“I understand,” the blond mumbled and tried to look grateful for the information, but he was simply too disappointed to make a good job about it.

Without another word to the helpful, if slightly disgusting shop owner, he turned around and pulled the shop door open. With the chime still ringing in his ear, he didn’t bother to walk all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron, but apparated directly into the dark alleyway near their flat.

*~*The Bracelet’s Charm*~*

Harry stood in the middle of the room right after Draco had left their flat. He was sure that his _sneaky_ boyfriend was on his way to look at the bracelet that was currently lying in a small velvety box in his top drawer in their bedroom, about thirty kilometres away from the dusty shop it had resided in for probably about the last three decades.

He wanted to make this night special and because he knew that Draco would be beyond annoyed and probably upset once he came back home, Harry needed to make sure that every single detail was perfect.

First of all, Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the fireplace. One well-place _Incendio_ later, the living room was being illuminated by the warm, orange light of the flames dancing. Then, he made his way into the kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards. He didn’t know how long it would take his lover to come back to his senses enough to apparate home, so he had made sure to prepare as much as he had possibly been able to without having his nosy boyfriend ask suspicious questions.

Finally, after he had closed the oven and set the potatoes to a soft simmer, he had made his slow, yet determined way into the bedroom. The drawer drew his attention in immediately, as if it was glowing and blinking in different neon colours.

This was the time, he thought just as he heard the front door open.

*~*The Bracelet’s Charm*~*

As he opened the door, the first thing he registered was soft instrumental music playing. The fire was burning and this morning’s empty cups that he was sure he had left on the tea table were gone. The throws they had bought only a few weeks ago had been folded neatly and thrown over the couch’s armrest. Pillows were fluffed and not a single speck of dust could be seen. A delicious smell came out of the kitchen and he could feel his empty stomach grumble in excitement. How long had he been away for it to become dinner time already?

Draco slowly closed the door. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he shrugged out of his coat and put his boots into the nearest corner, right next to Harry’s. He wasn’t in the mood for a romantic evening, yet he had to admit that being greeted like this had something really charming and loving about it. Against his will, he felt his heartbeat pick up and adrenaline was shooting through his veins.

“Welcome home, love,” a melodic voice behind him greeted him and strong arms circled around his waist. Lips trailed their way up his neck, over his cheek, until he turned his head and stared into twinkling green eyes.

Their lips touched in a loving kiss and Draco felt himself go boneless. All illogical anger at the shop keeper, all sadness about his misfortune seeped out of him, as he let himself lean into the kiss and enjoy the moment for what it was.

After a few minutes, Harry leaned back slightly and brushed his knuckles against the blond’s cheek. His opposite had his beautiful grey eyes closed and was humming approvingly.

“What did I do to deserve a greeting like this?” he purred and slowly opened his eyes.

The black-haired wizard smiled softly and pressed a light kiss onto the tip of Draco’s nose. The blond felt his insides give a pleasant jerk. “You’ll see,” he winked and let go of Draco’s waist.

Feeling disorientated after the heated kiss and the loss of those warm arms around his body, the former Slytherin blinked and watched his lover walk over to the tea table. He grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses that he had not noticed before and poured them both a glass of his favourite white wine. Draco felt his heart swell. Harry hated white wine and he was usually very vocal about it, too.

“Did you get good news from Kingsley or something?” Draco laughed and accepted his glass with a grateful nod. He sniffed at the white liquid approvingly. Yes, Harry had bought his favourite wine.

“Not really.” Harry smiled secretly and took a small sip of his drink. He made an incredibly good job in not pulling a face at the taste like he usually did. “Are you hungry? I made dinner and it should be done about now.”

Draco raised his eyebrows and watched his boyfriend walk into the kitchen. He was behaving rather oddly, but as long as he didn’t want to break up with him, he would be able to deal with the outcome. After all, you didn’t buy your partner’s favourite drink and cook, judging by the smell, your partner’s favourite meal if you wanted to break up with him.

The blond followed the brunet into the rather small kitchen and was greeted by a beautifully set table. The white table cloth was one he had never seen before. The candles were lit rather recently, and the silver chandelier was sparkling in the soft, flickering light of the small flames.

A tingling feeling spread through his body as he put his glass down next to his plate. The cutlery was so clean that he was able to see his unobscured reflection in it. Harry had definitely spent some time polishing everything, but he felt too surprised and simply overwhelmed to be taken aback by all the trouble his boyfriend had gone through.

“What is the meaning of this,” Draco asked after he had put his teaspoon next to his plate. Harry had outdone himself with all three courses. Every following dish had been better than the one before.

His boyfriend blushed softly and took his time to clear his throat. Draco had noticed that he had not eaten much, but since Harry had not eaten much for the last week or so, he hadn’t thought anything about it. He knew that if something was bothering him, he would tell the blond about it, so he figured that the former Gryffindor had to have a stressful time at work; nothing major. Seeing him fidget now, his breathing somewhat irregular, he started to worry.

“Everything is okay, isn’t it?” Draco’s eyebrows drew together as he watched his opposite fight an inner battle.

“Of course, it is.” The brunet’s soft voice calmed him down and he allowed himself to breathe again.

“Okay,” he said, not sure how to go about it.

Just as he was about to ask how work was going, Harry once again cleared his throat and stood up. A determined look lit up his green eyes. Draco out down his napkin to get up as well, but Harry merely motioned for him to stay put.

Confused, he watched as his boyfriend inhaled slowly, almost deliberately, and kneeled down next to him chair. Even more bewildered, Draco blinked as the dark-haired wizard took his hand and held it gently between his own.

“Draco,” Harry said and forced himself to look into those wide, adorably confused, grey eyes he loved so much. Looking at his lover now, he knew he had made the right choice. A strong, overwhelming feeling of warmth shot through his body, as he squeezed the blond’s hand. Love he had never felt this strongly before gave him strength to say what he needed to say to make sure that this incredible man would stay with him forever.

Harry smiled shyly and closed his eyes for a few seconds to hold back the tears that were threatening to moisten up his eyes.

“We have been through a lot, and both of us know that it’s not always been good either. From that first moment on, when I met you for the first time in Madam Malkin’s, I didn’t like you, and I’m sure that you don’t even remember that meeting at all,” he paused to see Draco’s reaction. The embarrassed blush made him grin widely.

“I knew that,” he allowed himself a moment to snicker softly. “But that I refused your hand in friendship made it up to you, so I guess you’re not at fault completely.”

The blond made an indignant sound and Harry quickly pressed his lips to his hand in a soft, yet loving kiss to shut him up before he had the chance to get going.

“After that, we haven’t really been the most civil with each other,” he said, only to be interrupted by a mumbled, “You don’t say” from Draco. Harry smirked, but ignored the interruption.

“Yet, after the years went by, I saw that there was more behind that rude mask that you were so good at wearing. You could blind everyone with it, and at first, you were even successful in making me believe that that had been your real face. But I looked closer and saw that there was someone completely different behind that piece of drama, and I have to be honest; what I saw shocked me.

I saw a guy, who hid from everyone. I saw a guy, who wasn’t as bad as he wanted everyone to believe, but most importantly of all, I saw a guy that was the complete opposite from what he was so talented in making seem like the reality. I saw a lost boy, who didn’t want anything more than to be accepted, respected and loved, and I saw the similarities between that boy and myself.

I didn’t know that boy, who was scared enough to feel the need to hide behind a mask, but I knew that I wanted to get to know him, so I tried my best to find out what made him _him_. I have to admit that I didn’t go about it the right way at first,” Harry added in a hesitant tone that had Draco laughing softly.

The brunet looked up from their intertwined hand and wiped away the tear marks that were making his love’s face glisten. A surprised blush told him that his opposite hadn’t been conscious of them.

“What I want to say,” Harry continued and looked straight into the glistening silver eyes that were staring at him with so much love that it felt difficult to breathe, “is that I got to know the boy behind the mask and I fell in love with him. I fell so quickly that, at first, I didn’t know what was happening, but as I realized it, I knew that I would never feel the same about anybody else. I knew that I wanted to grow old with that boy and spend my life together with him, surrounded by friends and family.”

Draco’s chin started to wobble and a shocked gasp escaped his lips as he watched with wide eyes how Harry let go of one of his hands and reached behind him.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” his voice was heavy with emotions as his trembling and slightly sweaty hands opened the black box he had pulled out of a nearby kitchen drawer. “I love you more than life itself, and I know that I cannot live without you by my side. Would you do me the indescribable honour of marrying me?”

Silence was followed by those words as Draco gaped at the piece of jewelry that was resting in the old looking satin of the box. A silver bracelet, engraved with foreign looking runes lay there, right before his eyes. Tears were now streaming freely over his cheeks as he raised his gaze to the sparkling green that was staring at him insecurely.

The blond opened and closed his mouth again and again, but couldn’t find the right words.

The beauty of this moment was overwhelming; the love he felt for the kneeling man in front of him was robbing him of his ability to speak, but one word he could utter before he let out a loud sob and threw himself into the waiting arms of his fiancé.

“ _Yes_.”

*~*The Bracelet’s Charm*~*

“I didn’t go to the apothecary every time I told you I would,” Draco mumbled against the naked skin of his boyfriend, lover, _fiancé_. A bright smile threatened to split his face in half at that thought.

It was later that night and they were lying in bed. The soft blanket was thrown over their bodies, protecting them from the cold air; the fireplace had long since burned out. A warm and pleasantly strong arm pulled him closer to the tanned chest, causing him to sigh happily.

“I know.”

The chest underneath his cheek rumbled.

Draco blinked and raised his head slightly to be able to look into those mischievously sparkling green eyes of his soon-to-be husband. “Excuse me?”

A soft laugh made them bounce up and down. Lazy fingers smoothed through blond hair.

“I’m not that stupid as to actually believe that you have to buy ingredients about four times a week, Draco,” Harry answered, amused, as he watched a sudden awareness spread over the blond’s face. His cheeks darkened in embarrassment and Harry snickered anew.

“Don’t worry, love,” he muttered and drew him closer again. “I’m glad you did it. That way I knew just how much you wanted that bracelet, but were too damn proud to ask for it.”

Draco sighed, as he allowed the resignation to take a hold of his pleasantly exhausted body. His eyes glanced at the silver bracelet wrapped around his wrist.

“Idiot,” he mumbled and snuggled into the soft chest underneath him.

The minutes passed in relaxed silence as both lovers lay in each other’s arms, enjoying the feeling of never being alone again.

After what felt like hours watching the starry sky through the waving curtains, Draco looked up at Harry again. The bright green eyes that he loved so very much were closed and a soft smile was lightening up the handsome complexion.

“Do you know that the runes mean?” Draco asked softly and studied his fiancé’s expression closely.

The latter merely shrugged, jostling the blond from side to side.  “No idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Do you know what the runes are for? *laughs* I'm waiting for guesses!
> 
> Comment and tell me what you think the bracelet is for! It has a purpose :) But neither Draco, nor Harry know about it - obviously.
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	8. The Unexpected Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets a letter from the Ministry of Magic. But it isn't the normal 'I was a Death Eater and have to pay'-letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is rather old. It's from the second Season of QLFC on FFN, so there might be a few mistakes in there somewhere.  
> I had to write about the Beast Division (Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures) of the Ministry of Magic.
> 
> Prompts:   
> (word) tickled, (word) onwards
> 
> Enjoy!

**The Unexpected Heritage**

“Rise and shine, love,” said the most loving, beautiful and at the moment most annoying and irritating voice I have ever heard in my entire life.

Grumbling, I turned around and buried my face into the softest pillow I could find. It smelled fresh, like flowers and air. I smiled happily and started to drift slowly back to sleep. The edges of my consciousness became fuzzy, my focus on the nearly forgotten dream of one black-haired wizard lying at the shore of the Black Lake, with only a pair of swim trunks on…

…when a burst of sunlight hit me straight in the face.

I flinched, trying to - unsuccessfully - wrench the blanket in front of my sore eyes. “ _Ahh, what the_ …”

“Wake up, Draco, breakfast is ready.”

Harry’s sparkling green eyes appeared in front of my grumbling face. He winked at me, kissed my cheek and stole my blanket.

“Oi! Give that back!” I reached forward, only to be pulled onto my feet.

“No way,” he laughed his amazing laugh, his voice rich and low, causing warm butterflies to race through my system, landing in my groin, stomach and cheeks, warming all of these areas in both the right and very wrong way.

“Come on and get ready,” he said, totally not seeing the beet red and extremely unmanly colour my cheeks had adopted, or just choosing wisely to ignore it, so I could at least keep some of my manliness and self-respect for later destruction. “Breakfast is ready and…”

He blinked as a loud _bang_ could be heard from downstairs. I raised my eyebrow and ignored the way the butterflies were playing Quidditch inside my stomach as I watched the handsome wizard’s eyes in front of me double in size.  “…you got an owl that just ruined our breakfast,” he mumbled and hurried out of the room, dragging my precious blanket with him.

*~*DMHP*~*

Grumbling, I tried to push a lone strand of white-blond hair back, without throwing a fit of rage when it decided to jump back onto my forehead, where it tickled my temple like there was no tomorrow. I glared at the mirror.

“It’s no use, my dear boy. Have you used a charm yet?”

My eyes narrowed as I tried to stare the mirror to death. Everyone knew that charms only did so much to your hair. _Everyone_ knew that – well, except maybe one raven-haired wizard who was enjoying his time downstairs with _my blanket_ and whose hair was a lost cause anyway.

First, Harry’s over enthusiastic behaviour after such a wonderful and special night like the last one and now _this. All I want to do is cuddle, is that too much to ask for?_ I thought miffed, not wasting one more thought on the fact that Malfoys _do not cuddle. Merlin, what is wrong with me?_ Absentmindedly, I scratched my titillative shoulder blade.

I huffed, shot a last glare in the mirror’s direction and marched my way down into the kitchen where my dear darling of a boyfriend tried to get an explanation and probably an apology out of a barn owl that was staring at him with confused and slightly annoyed amber eyes.

Everywhere around Harry and the stupid bird, the floor was covered in extremely deliciously smelling scrambled eggs, bacon, muffins and pumpkin juice. I hated that bird.

“It’s not going to do as you tell it to,” I said, cautiously walking through the battlefield of destroyed food and reached behind him to grab onto the blanket which was still in Harry’s vice like grip.

“I know that,” he sniffed as he glanced at the irritated looking owl on our kitchen table.

Feeling extremely satisfied as I managed to pry the soft feather blanket out of Harry’s _claws of_ _doom_ – never mess with a Malfoy before he’s fully awake – I decided to take mercy on him and turned towards the owl. It had an official looking letter clutched between its talons, the deep blue symbol unmistakably from my least favourite institution of Great Britain – the Ministry of Magic.

“What is it they want now?” I sighed as I dropped the blanket next to my chair and strolled over to Harry’s side, who had just shooed the rude owl out of the kitchen window. I had done my duties in charity and social work, just like the Wizengamot had told me to right after the war. That’s what father was good for – steal the last of my free time. He even managed that while rotting in prison.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, walking slowly towards the wooden table, never taking his eyes off the parchment in his hands. His brilliant eyes met my rather boring looking ones as he gave me the Ministry letter. “It’s yours. You read it. I’m sure it’s nothing too serious,” his voice was calm, his smile gentle, his lips way too soft and enticing looking for his own good.

I blinked and took a deep breath as I opened the heavy parchment the envelope was made out of.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

I pushed the letter back into the envelope and thrusted it into Harry’s direction. “No, you open it. Please.”

Confused, he took the parchment out of my slightly clammy hands, pulled it out of the envelope and began to read.

I watched as his eyes narrowed slightly, just to quadruplicate in size right afterwards. He stared at the yellowish parchment in his hands, his pink lips slightly open. I frowned and moved a step towards him.

“Well?” I asked nervously, not really wanting to hear the answer, but wanting to hear it nevertheless. _When did I become so complicated?_ I didn’t even understand my own thoughts anymore. “What does it say?”

Harry raised his head slowly and zoned his eyes in on mine. His brilliant green gaze caused tingles to shoot through my body so abruptly that I winced.

“It’s from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” he said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving mine.

“The Beast Division?” I frowned.

“Exactly. They ask you to come by next week.”

That didn’t make any sense whatsoever. “Why would they do that?” I asked confused and scratched my damn shoulder blade. I should go and see a healer soon, I decided as I took a seat at the wooden kitchen table, which was still splattered with parts of our destroyed breakfast. _Damn that owl!_

Harry took a few steps towards my chair and knelt down in front of me, the parchment in his hands trembling slightly. “They say it’s due to your heritage,” he whispered, searching my face for any reactions that might tell him I knew all along.

“What heritage?” I blinked at him owlishly. I didn’t understand a word he was saying.

“Draco,” he lowered his eye lids, so it looked as if his eyes only contained the colour bright green. It was creepy as hell. “Did your parents ever tell you anything about possible Veela ancestors in your family lineage?”

 _What?_ I froze. I couldn’t blink or swallow or move or _breathe._ A Veela? Me? No. No, that must be some kind of misunderstanding. There’s absolutely _no way_ that I could be half-human. Mother and father would rip their hair out if they were to find out, if they had been told there was a magical creature in our pure family history of only wizards and witches of the purest and finest blood there was. There was absolutely no way that I could be…

“Draco, breathe!”

I gulped in a huge amount of air and felt the dizziness slowly leave my brain. I could blink again. I turned my head and frowned at a concerned looking Harry who was still kneeling in front of me, one hand resting on my knee, the other on my cheek. Their warmth seeped right through my skin, into my veins and onwards to each and every little part of my body, concentrating in my groin. I groaned. _Not again._

“How is it even possible?” I whispered, leaning forward slightly. I inhaled Harry’s calming scent.

“You didn’t know about this?” Harry’s voice was caring and low. He was obviously trying not to scare me into running away and screaming like a little girl. Malfoys don’t scream or run away. Especially not at the same time. They just don’t.

“No, of course not,” I looked at him with a deep frown on my otherwise flawless and angle-like alabaster skin. “I would have told you if I did.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Of course, you would have. I’m sorry.” He smiled sheepishly in my direction, causing the butterflies to tap-dance. “I know you would have told me. It’s just so…”

“Unexpected?”

He laughed and und pulled me towards him. The kiss that followed left me breathless. “Exactly,” he chuckled as he pulled away way too soon, if you’d ask me.

“You know what?” He stood up and helped me onto my feet. “I’ll firecall Hermione. She works in that department and I’m sure she’ll help us. Or at least tell us what to expect.”

Ah, Granger. Of course, I could have thought about that wicked, way too intelligent for her own good, muggleborn witch. Yes, I have worked on my vocabulary, thank you very much.

“Do you think she would help me? I mean, we still don’t really get along that well,” I mumbled embarrassed. That was an understatement. She hated me. She did her best to overcome our not so peachy looking history – another understatement – and see me for who I really was, but it was taking her so much effort that I slowly started to believe it was going to take a while before she could handle to be in a room with me and not trying to do wandless and deathly magic.

He smiled sadly and pressed a light and loving kiss onto my forehead. “I’m sure she will,” he whispered, pushing the stray strand of hair behind my ear. I scowled. “She just needs some time to get along with the current situation.”

“With ‘current situation’ you mean the last two years, right?”

He grinned at me, winked and left me wondering about the unfairness of social relationships.

*~*DMHP*~*

Granger glared at me as if I had killed her whole family in one day and made her watch. I gulped. I was used to that look, yes, but it didn’t mean that I liked it. I wanted her to like me – or at least accept me. I wasn’t that stupid to actually _believe_ that she would someday like me. A man can have hopes.

“Tell me again why I should help him exactly,” her voice was arrogant as she turned to the most loving and lovable person I knew. You don’t talk to him that way! Not even Granger! It just wasn’t right.

“He got a letter from your department earlier this morning, saying that he had to come to a hearing due to his newly acquired heritage,” Harry answered calmly, a gentle and peaceful smile decorated his soft lips. I swallowed. God, how much I loved that man.

Herm – _Granger_ sniffed and turned her glare back towards me. I pushed all of my strength, conviction and energy into the corners of my mouth, only to stop right away as I saw Harry wince. _Ah, no more forced smiles for me._

I nodded to Granger, to show her my support for Harry’s announcement. That’s how you act around a woman like her. Act as if you don’t feel the slightest bit nervous in her presence and don’t care one bit that she tried to murder you with her fierce gaze only. _No, Draco, don’t gulp! Show no fear!_

“All right.”

I choked. “What?”

“I said all right,” she hissed with narrowed eyes. _Okay, I just gulped._

“I heard what you said,” there was no reason why I should kiss my self-respect goodbye just yet.

“Then don’t act as if you’re deaf.”

Indignant, I opened my mouth to shoot back an equally uncivil reply as a burst of heat stopped me from doing that. Harry’s hand squeezed my shoulder slightly as he smiled at his long-time best friend. “Brilliant!”

I blinked at him owlishly. What the devil was going on here? Was everyone losing their minds right now? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm my inner, slightly more malicious than necessary voice down.

“I’ve heard from your case, Malfoy,” her voice ripped me out of my calming breathing technique and caused me to swallow way too much air at once.

Harry frowned. “And why didn’t you tell him? Or me for that matter?”

Granger sighed. “ _Because_ I am not supposed to be talking about ongoing cases,” she said, as if talking to a three year old. “I’m still not supposed to.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do then, according to your opinion?” I asked timidly, as to not aggravate her any further.

Her glare zoned in on me. “Follow their instructions, of course.”

“So, you mean that I should just go there and let them decide my future as a half-human? Just like that?”

Granger sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “They aren’t going to throw you into Azkaban, Malfoy.”

“Well, why don’t you tell us then what they’ll do during this hearing,” Harry dragged a chair beside mine and sat down. “I called you because we need your help, ‘Mione.”

Granger lowered her hand and studied us for a long moment. Her gaze stopped at Harry’s hand that rested on top of my knee. She sighed. “Nothing bad is going to happen,” her voice was soft. I didn’t know she could sound like that. “They’re just going to ask him a few questions like ‘Did you know about your heritage beforehand?’ or ‘Why didn’t you register as a Veela?’. They won’t condemn him for what he is.”

She raised her head and looked me in the eye. It took all of my strength and all of the strange heat radiating from Harry’s hand to not flinch away from her. “Everything’s going to be okay. It’s just a formality they have to complete before you can continue with your life like you used to.” Was that a smile on her face? I gulped. That was even more frightening than the death glares she usually sent my way.

I tried to smile back, only remembering too late that it probably looked like I wanted to kill her for real. I winced as her smiled vanished and Harry’s hand squeezed my knee.

I laughed. It sounded a little bit desperate.

Harry shot Herm- _Granger_ a look as jerked his head unmistakably in my direction. He obviously thought I didn’t see. I sulked even more after that.

“It’s going to be all right, Malf- _Dra…co?_ ” It sounded more like a forced, somewhat painful question than something that’s supposed to reassure me. “You’ll see, they’ll just ask a few innocent questions.”

“See?” Harry’s voice was chipper. I scowled at him. _He_ didn’t have to deal with the knowledge of being a freshly awakened Veela. Those heat waves from his touches, those hyperactive butterflies, the confusing thoughts, the constant sexual reaction of my body that I can’t seem to be able to control whatsoever and those damn titillative shoulder blades that I just want to scratch out of my body… I let my head droop and sighed loudly. I hated my life. Well, not all of it obviously, but right now it was very difficult to convince myself of that little unimportant fact…

Granger and Harry exchanged one of those looks that contained a whole, complex discussion that for the life of me I couldn’t – and still can’t for that matter – manage to figure out. Granger sniffed, crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward slightly, so that her eyes would be on the same level as mine, was I to decide to raise my head.

A soft finger pushed my head up gently. I blinked. Harry nodded encouragingly.

Granger smiled at me and – I think my heart stopped there for a second when that happened – took hold of my hands. “Trust me,” she said in a low and gentle voice, her smile soft and honest. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear.”

_Oh well, there’s still some way to go before we can overcome our history. But maybe this little interaction is the beginning of a long-lasting friendship between us._

_Hah! Don’t make me laugh!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it :D
> 
> Comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya!


	9. Three is a Lucky Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 'Third Anniversary of Harry Potter's Triumph' isn't as bad as the second one was... At least for Harry and Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write about Drarry, they said. 
> 
> Prompts:  
> (quote) „I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.” – Dr. Seuss, (word) happily
> 
> Enjoy!

**Three is a Lucky Number**

Harry Potter scowled at the large banner hanging above the festively decorated ball room in a rarely used part of the Ministry of Magic. People had told him that this part used to be where balls and festivities were being held, long before he was even born. Now the words ‘Third Anniversary of Harry Potter’s Triumph’ labelled the room Harry had no desire whatsoever to enter.

Laughing people were mingling in the dome-like room, chatting to one another and overall waiting for the person of the evening to arrive. Said person stood in the shadows at the entrance and refused to set a foot in that nightmare of a party.

He scowled even more as he remembered the last two anniversaries where people couldn’t stop congratulating and thanking him for saving their world and killing the evil Dark Lord Voldemort. Harry snorted. It had been three years ago now that he had become a murderer in that night. And all those rich and famous wizards and witches could think about was their gain on him; the _Hero of the Wizarding World,_ the _Boy-Who-Lived-And-Conquered,_ the _Man-Who-Triumphed_ , or whatever it was they were calling him now. He had lost count after the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Conquered thing…

Hearing the people laugh and chat happily without a care or regret in their minds was disgusting. All Harry could think of when he thought of that night three years ago was how many lives had been ended brutally or destroyed completely, only because of one insane monster, who couldn’t understand that there was more in life than power, fear and immortality.

He had lost his whole family due to that maniac and had watched others lose their lived right before his eyes – whether that had been because of the Killing Course or because of their parents’ believes and their own unbelievably huge fear.

His thoughts wandered to non-other than Draco Malfoy. After the war, Harry had focused all his power onto the trial of one white-blond wizard, who was trying to avert a future ‘life’ in Azkaban. Being the son of two Death Eaters that used to be in Voldemort’s inner circle, bearing the Mark himself and having a history of dark activities under the name of the Dark Lord had not exactly been positive for him and Harry had known that. He had been the only one that had seen the other side of the dark boy – he had seen the fear in those silver eyes, the worry in the lines on his alabaster skin and the uncertainty in the posture of his lithe body.

He sighed as he saw Hermione and Ron Weasley hurry towards him. Ron was fidgeting with his collar, Hermione tried to withstand the reflex to roll her eyes. It didn’t look really attractive if one did such a childish thing while wearing expensive dressing gowns and attending a victory party that was being held for their friend.

“Would you stop that already?” She huffed as Ron tugged at his sleeve, wincing ever so slightly. “What is wrong with you?”

Harry tried to hide his smirk as Ron scratched his lower back. “I think George put some Tickling Solution into my robes,” he grumbled as he reached up to scratch his shoulder. “Damn it! Harry, could you help a man out?”

Harry snickered as Hermione gaped at her husband, who shuffled forward and pointed at his back. “Sure,” Harry scratched his friend’s back just between the shoulder blades, getting a satisfied groan from the red-haired wizard.

“Ron!” Hermione cried out indignant and pulled him away from a now laughing Harry. “Behave yourself, damn it!”

“What?” He hissed back as he nodded to Harry in thanks. “It’s itching like hell, ‘Mione! I can’t help it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do that in public,” the rest of her retort was interrupted by a loud shrill sound, catching the attention of everyone in the ball room and the three reluctant heroes just outside the door.

A high female voice cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “May I welcome the persons of the night; Mr and Mrs Ronald and Hermione Granger, accompanied by non-other than Mr Harry Potter himself!”

Hermione choked as a roar of applause and whistles greeted them and forced them to enter the overly decorated room full of eager wizards and witches, who eyed them with both pride and awe. Harry put on a bright – but fake – smile as he dragged a dumbstruck Hermione and an itching Ron  through the masses towards the podium, where a young witch stood, beaming down at them. She reached out with her hand as Harry and his two friends set a foot on the stairs leading onto the podium and immediately pulled Harry onto the stage, positioning herself right next to him and batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

Harry smiled awkwardly and tried to scoot away from the overenthusiastic blond witch at his side. “Thank you,” he said into the microphone and the next ten minutes were spend with trying to convince the audience that he enjoyed the party just as much as he was supposed to, always in constant danger of getting out of reach of the microphone, as the blonde lady beside him made it a very uncomfortable habit of sticking to his body like a second skin. _Let the fun begin._

*~*

He gulped down his third firewhiskey in one go, grimacing slightly as the liquid burned down his throat. He hastily turned around as two women, went past him, saying something about wanting a photograph with and an autograph from the hero. He gulped and raised his whiskey glass towards his lips, only to notice that it was empty. He glanced over his shoulder towards the bar, loaded with bottles of white wine, red wine, sparkling wine, whiskey, firewhiskey, butterbeer and for some odd reason bananas.

Just as he decided that he was desperate enough to get another drink, a voice inside his head, sounding suspiciously like Hermione, began scolding him. _Don’t drink too much of that stuff, Harry, or did you forget what happened last time?_

Harry sighed and put his hand against his forehead dejectedly. He had just been reprimanded by his own traitorous mind. And no, he hadn’t forgotten that disaster that people, probably the same ones that were currently trying to hunt him down at this very moment, called ‘Second Anniversary of Harry Potter’s Triumph’. That evening had ended with Harry being to tipsy to apparate properly and had ended up with one foot in his toilet rather than with both feet in the entrance hall of his house.

Shaking his head, he scowled inwardly at his own Hermione-like mind and strolled purposefully over to the bar, trying to decide which whiskey he should try next.

*~*

Draco Malfoy was never more aggravated than during those official festivities where he was just being invited to due to one handsome wizard going by the name of Harry James Potter.

The tousle-haired wizard had made it a habit to tell everyone he met that Draco had changed and wasn’t to be hold responsible for his parents’ actions. Upon the reply that _that Draco Malfoy boy_ had indeed been a Death Eater himself, bearing the Mark and all, he had merely said that the consequences of not acting after his parents’ wish would have been even worse. Since Draco had never actually killed anybody, and had only tortured people while at the wrong end of Voldemort’s wand, he was not to be called responsible for his actions during the war. Having saved the Golden Boy’s life certainly helped with that request, which Harry had mentioned more than once.

But seeing the wizards and witched of the British community glaring at him and whispering behind his back didn’t help his nerves. His fingers clutched desperately at the glass in his hands, the golden brown liquid inside spilled over the rim, wetting his trembling fingers.

Being out in the open for everyone to stare at and insult did not feel right while being alone. He wanted, no, _needed_ his usual companion at his side. He needed the charming, handsome young wizard at his side; let himself be calmed by the soothing sound of his soft voice and the warm touches of his big hands on his shoulder, arm or back.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he saw a man drag his woman away from him, glancing over his shoulder as if Draco might attack them any second. He sighed and downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass. He rolled his shoulders and looked around. He had to be here _somewhere_. This party was being held in honour of him; it was impossible, if not disrespectful of him if he would have just stayed at home. _Just like I should have done,_ he thought grimly and decided that until he had found his favourite rock to hang onto, he could as well down all of his sorrow with some expensive alcohol, and made towards the bar in search of something that would make him feel numb to all those glares and hisses.

*~*

“Mr Potter, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Harry whirled around and stared into the plain face of the blonde woman he had ‘met’ while on stage. She raised a very thin and unnatural looking eyebrow and eyed the bottle of whiskey in Harry’s hand.

He laughed awkwardly and put it back down. Clearing his throat, he tried to smile pleasantly at the annoying woman. “Well, I guess you’ve found me,” he chuckled weakly and gulped as the woman started laughing hysterically. It reminded him painfully of Aunt Petunia’s laugh when Uncle Vernon’s boss and his wife had been over for dinner.

“Why, aren’t you a cheeky one,” she giggled and hit him against the arm playfully.

Harry’s smile wobbled slightly as he studied the small hand on his biceps. He managed to hide the scowl that was sneaking its way onto his face. The small hand tightened its grip and the appraising look on the woman’s face told him that she wasn’t just checking him out merely by looks. _Oh Merlin, help me._

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet,” he said and jerked his arm forward, successfully getting rid of the way too small and way too hot hand on it. “Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you.” _I think I have to vomit._

The woman beamed at him and batted her eyelashes. “Emily Ackland,” she grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers immediately. Harry blushed. Her smile widened. He gulped.

“Potter?”

Harry looked over his shoulder and sighed with relief as he saw non-other than Draco Malfoy walk towards them, an empty glass in his hand and looking adorably confused. Harry’s blush deepened as he noticed that Emily Ackland’s hand was still clutching his like it was some kind of extra slippery fish that needed to be contained.

“Malfoy,” he said and wiggled his hand out of the woman’s grip. “I was looking for you.”

“Really?” He raised an elegant eyebrow and studied Ackland suspiciously. “And who are you if I may ask?” The animosity in his voice was difficult to ignore.

The blond witch seemed to think along those lines as well, as she glared at Harry’s saviour. “Well, _I_ don’t have to ask who _you_ are,” she smirked at the handsome wizard, who stood now between Harry and Ackland, shielding him successfully from her clutches of doom.

Draco scowled. “Oh, really?” The sarcasm that dripped from those two words made Harry snicker softly behind him. He fought the smile that wanted to show itself.

“Yes, really,” she answered deridingly. “You’re a Death Eater and have no business anywhere near Harry Potter or this party. We’re here to honour those who died at _your hand.”_

Behind him, Harry huffed. He didn’t like this whole scenario either, then. Draco smirked. “This whole thing,” he gestured wildly with his hands, “is to honour those who lost their lives during the war?” He started laughing loudly as Ackland looked ready to murder him. “You can’t be serious!”

“I wouldn’t expect a Death Eater to understand the word ‘honour’,” she retorted spitefully.

“He isn’t a Death Eater,” Draco turned around and saw a livid Harry, who had effort to put his glass down slowly, as to not smash it on the table top. “He was cleared of all charges,” well, that wasn’t exactly true, but that witch didn’t need to know the minor verdicts anyway. Who was she to interfere with their business anyway?

“So, you are on his side, then? Do you believe all of this nonsense that is coming out of his mouth about all that Death Eater stuff?” Her eyes flashed as she rounded up on Harry.

Harry smiled innocently. “I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. Especially with all the shit that’s been going on lately.”

She gaped at him indignantly, huffed, ripped the glass out of Draco’s hand, smashed in on the floor and stormed off.

Draco blinked after her, clearly confused as to what had just happened. “Um, are you drunk, Potter?”

“No, not that I know of,” Harry snickered as he watched the furious witch march away. “Oh, no.”

Bemused, Draco only managed to gasp as Harry took hold of his hand and dragged him away from the table with the alcohol on it. “Potter, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting the hell out of here,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder and fastening his pace. He turned around a corner and let himself fall onto the nearest bench. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled as Draco blinked at him owlishly. “Skeeter was on her way towards us and I don’t have the nerve to deal with her just now.”

Draco winced as he thought what could have happened if she had seen them both together. “Exactly,” Potter nodded as sighed, as he looked down at his hands and thus gave Draco a good opportunity to really look at him.

It had been a while since he had seen the saviour, but he hadn’t changed much. His hair was slightly longer, but still just as messy as it used to be. Draco’s hand twitched as he studied the soft texture of the black hair, pointing this and that direction. He smiled softly as his gaze travelled down his neck, over his strong, broad shoulders, over his muscled arms… He swallowed as the familiar tingling feeling shot through his stomach and into his veins, warming his body within seconds. Harry’s, no, _Potter’s_ hands were fidgeting, but Draco could only stare at the long, somewhat elegant looking digits that he would give everything he had if he could just touch them once… along with that amazing hair and those muscular arm and this mouth-watering neck…

Harry clutched his fingers together and tried to think of a way to say what he had wanted to say for the last few weeks now. Ever since that one meeting in Diagon Alley where he had seen Draco wander through the shops and had come to chat with him, he had wanted to tell him that there was something different in him. He… he wasn’t even sure what it was, but he somehow knew that it would all be alright if he’d just confide in Draco. He swallowed and summoned his courage. They were alone, away from all those glances and, in Draco’s case, glares and nobody would interrupt them.

 _Unless Ron needs someone to scratch his back again_ , he thought, amused.

He looked up and saw Draco stare at his arms with a weird expression on his face. Harry frowned. “Hey, you alright?” He asked softly, successfully pulling Draco out of his reveries.

“What? Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course I’m alright,” Draco huffed and turned his head sideways to hide his adorable blush. Harry’s stomach made a somersault.

Harry watched a pack of witches move past them, glancing over their shoulder and giggling, some were even winking at Harry. He winced.

Draco smirked as he saw this. “What? Is famous Potter not enjoying the attention he’s getting from the ladies?” He laughed haughtily, wincing inwardly as he hoped to hear a negative answer from the dream-guy next to him. Every mother would love to call him their son-in-law. _Except for mine, but who cares what that bitch wants anyway_.

Harry eyed him warily as Draco’s laugh subsided slowly. “Why are you doing this?” He asked softly as Draco’s false chuckles stopped.

He stared at his former enemy. “What do you mean?”

“This whole I’m-untouchable-and-emotionless-thing you have going on since I know you. Why are you doing this?”

Draco was taken aback and gaped at the black-haired wizard, who had a cute frown on his face. Those brilliant green eyes bore into his silver ones, giving him the feeling of being read like an open book. He blinked. He didn’t know, did he? He gulped. He hoped not. He didn’t want the world to know that he wasn’t that bad of a guy. Well, maybe he did, but he didn’t want to be seen with the man of his dreams like this, talking civilly and probably destroying Harry’s popularity in the wizarding world just because he didn’t hate the _former Death Eater._

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” his voice was a mere whisper. He didn’t bother trying to overplay this faux-pas. I could see it in Harry’s eyes…

“I know you’re not a bad guy, Draco,” Harry mumbled. Draco, being the love-struck idiot that he was, was too busy relishing the sound of his own name as it rolled over Harry’s tongue to notice when Harry gently took his hands in his, stroking his palms ever so softly. When he did notice, he blushed deeply, causing Harry to chuckle.

“I’m sorry that those people treat you like a criminal,” he muttered as he looked into Draco’s light eyes, searching for any sign that might tell him he was moving too fast; he didn’t find it.

“Well, they’re right, aren’t they?” Draco sniffed and gazed down at their intertwined hands, a soft smile crept onto his young face. “I _am_ a Death Eater after all.”

“You _were_ a Death Eater,” Harry stressed and put a finger under Draco’s chin to force him to look him in the eye, causing the blond wizard to shiver pleasantly. “Past tense. And it wasn’t like it was your decision, right?”

Draco’s heartbeat was so fast that he feared it would jump right out of his rib cage any second now. He swallowed as he looked into those beautiful eyes that led him through every one of his dreams. “No, it wasn’t,” he whispered as if in trance. His eyes wandered down to Harry’s lips. They looked so soft and sweet…

He was incapable of saying anything else. He wanted to tell him so much! He wanted him to know how he was feeling right now, how he had felt that night when he had saved him from the feintfire, wanted to tell him how relieved and happy he had been when he found out that it had been _him_ that had survived and not Voldemort. He wanted to tell him so much, but all he could do was stare at those beautiful lips and those brilliant eyes…

Harry kept talking and talking. He had stopped listening a while ago. The bright green of his eyes kept glancing down, the lids lowered, the pupils widened… And that was when he felt them; those beautifully soft lips on his own.

He sighed as he closed his eyes. He was in heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> I can only imagine it too well... Harry being forced by Hermione to attend this stupid ball....
> 
> Comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Until next time - see ya! :D


	10. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one... enjoy!  
> Warning: Angst

Choices

The sky was dark as the first rain drops hit the window in his room.

On any other day, he would lie on his bed, his head turned towards the side, his eyes following the clouds in the sky. The window would be open, letting a soft breeze enter his bedroom carrying with it the sounds of birds chirping joyfully.

On any other day, he would watch the sky for any signs of a certain white owl carrying a much waited for piece of parchment, fully knowing that what he was doing was unwelcome, forbidden, dangerous.

On any other day, he would count down the hours until his parents would retire, so that he could force a house elf to keep its mouth shut if he wanted to stay in the service of his family for a day longer as he sneaked out of his room, down the multiple corridors that led through the whole mansion, down the grand stair case and out the doors. He would always choose one of the back entrances, the ones that were only used by servants and house elves. The sky was always clear, as if it knew what the young wizard was up to. Thunder would only wake his parents up and would, thus, make it impossible for him to seek after what he truly wanted.

On any other day, his heart would beat calmly in his chest, already used to the secrets and thrill that came with his activities.

On any other day, he would feel as if he still had a chance to stop what was sure to happen. He would still feel as if the whispered words falling from his loved one's lips were the truth; that he could still choose.

But on this day, he knew that he had never had a choice; not really. Deep down he had always known that this day would come, even though he had done his best to not accept his imminent fate. He had wanted a future. He had wanted a choice. He had wanted a life, but all of this would be taken from him within the next couple of hours, he realised, as he stared into the pitch black night that enveloped everything around him.

He was sitting on the broad window sill. The glass shielded him from the rain outside as thunder made the earth vibrate. No birds were visible tonight; they were hiding and seeking shelter as he wished he could. But he couldn't. Not for the lack of trying, though. A deep sense of helplessness washed through him as he imagined being able to just walk out of this prison he was forced to call a bedroom, through the multiple hallways that led through the whole mansion and out one of the back doors, just as he had done so many times before. Back then he had still been able to escape, even if it had been for a couple of hours each day, week or month. Now, though, he would not dare as to remove his person out of these four walls.

It was the night that he had always feared, the night that he had done his best to prevent, but no matter how hard he had tried, he had failed each time.

Tonight was the night of his initiation.

Lightning cracked through the sky, briefly illuminating the garden underneath. The flowers that usually stood tall and proud were fighting against the pressure of the rain drops that pelted down upon them without mercy.

He felt oddly empty. He had spent so much time thinking about what would happen tonight that he didn't have any energy left to waste, no more tears to spend. He was fully and truly empty, exhausted to a degree he had not thought possible.

Memories of a conversation he had had the week before washed through his mind.

"Stay."

The word echoed through his head, bouncing back and forth, gaining in intensity.

"Just stay with me. They won't be able to get to you."

His voice was excited, his eyes showed a determination that was endearing. It meant the world to him that he wanted him enough to ask him to abandon everything he had known and to just stay.

"I can't," he said. He had to fight to keep the tremor out of his voice. He wanted nothing more than listen to him and believe him when he said that everything would be okay, that he would be safe and nobody would be able to get to him, but he had to remain realistic. As tempting as it sounded, he had to shake his head and face the reality.

"They will know. You know they will, and they will not stop until they find me. I can't make you go through that. I can't be the reason that destroys your life. I won't be."

"I don't care!" His green eyes glistened dangerously as he grabbed his shoulders and made it impossible for him to move away. "You hear me? I don't care! All I care about is you and if you go through with this, it will destroy you and I will not sit by and watch as you die on the inside."

"Then don't." His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling ever so slightly, but he didn't care. He had to make sure that the one good thing in his life was safe and would stay safe. He wouldn't be able to live with himself otherwise. He tried to keep the tears from falling out of his storm grey eyes, but he couldn't.

He watched him with a sad, emerald gaze, already knowing what would come.

"Don't," he whispered and gently wiped a crystal tear from his boyfriend's face. "Don't cry. I understand."

"Do you?" A sad laugh escaped his parted lips. "I'm so sorry that I can't be the one that you deserve. I'm so sorry that I'm not strong enough to go against him and choose for myself. You know that I would choose differently. I don’t have any control over that but please let me protect you as much as I can. Please."

"Of course, I know you’d choose differently. You’re not one of his followers. And I will always be by your side, love. No matter what you say or decide, you won't make me leave you. My life is dangerous as it is, it can't really get any worse."

His light laughter echoed through the small room as the crickets sang outside.

He could still feel that laugh if he closed his eyes and let all the worried thoughts flow out of his head. He had not said it then, but he had admitted to himself as he had returned into the mansion that that night had been the last between the two wizards. He was sure that the other had known and he was thankful that it had not stood between them. They had both needed it as a source of a sense of security and love, giving them strength for what the future had in hand for them.

Light steps echoed through the hallway leading to his room and made him freeze. What seemed like an eternity later, his breath hitched as knuckles knocked against his door, whose handle was immediately being pushed down. In a panicked second, wild storm grey eyes searched for a way he could prevent what was now about to happen. His breathing was shallow and too quickly, his heart beat so strongly as if it wanted to escape the prison of his ribcage. A fleeting moment, he seriously thought about wrenching the window open and jumping out of his third storey room because death would surely be preferred over the alternative.

He had not raised his hand to touch the window, as the door was pushed open and his fate stood in the doorway, successfully blocking all possibly escape routes. Why had he not taken the offer when he had still been able to?! Stay. How could one word hold so much power?

"Draco," his mother's voice was calm as her empty eyes focused on her son. "It's time."

Draco gulped, trying to get his breathing to calm down. He wanted to at least have some control, even if everything else was being forced on him. He would not give those people the satisfaction of seeing him fall to pieces.

"Mother," he cursed inwardly as he heard the coarse quality of his usually so smooth voice, betraying the panic he was trying to suppress. "Please. Don't make me do this."

"Love, you know that I can't change it now. The choice has been made and you should do everything to fulfil what's asked of you."

The cautious smile that she gave him did nothing to calm him down. He was thankful, however, that she did not talk about honour or the Malfoy name as he was sure his father would have. His mother knew what he went through and she knew that he was not fully convinced that the Dark Lord's ways were the right ones. Draco had never given her any reason to believe that he thought less about her Lord, as he was sure she would have told his father and that punishment would have been preventable.

Thoughts about being disowned or killed seemed favourable at the moment and those feelings scared the hell out of him. He had never wanted to die. He thought his life a very big deal and nothing to play with. Being a Malfoy had always been a source of pride but being just Draco sounded safer to him now.

His mother waved her hand in a authoritative manner, and he forced himself off the window still and onto his feet. The way the witch held herself, Draco figured that she had made sure to have her wand somewhere from where she could easily and quickly grab it. He didn't fancy being disarmed by his mother and led to the meeting room at wand point, so he decided to not give her a reason to literally force him into his imminent future.

Feeling like a prisoner being led to receive the Dementor's kiss, he held his head high as he walked through the long halls of Malfoy Manor, his mother closely behind him. He ignored the paintings that yelled encouragements and supremacy bullshit that was supposed to make him excited as they passed by. Contrary to his expectations, Narcissa Malfoy did not lead her son into the meeting room that usually served as the main location for initiations but to a rather narrow and hidden staircase that he knew led to the dungeons.

As a little boy, he had once gotten lost in the manor as he had played hide and seek with one of the house elves that were responsible for his education, and had ended up behind the narrow wooden door. He could still feel the cold and clammy stone walls underneath his small fingers as his curiosity had weighed out his parents' warnings. His little feet had carried him into the maze that was the mansion's dungeon.

He had once asked his father why they had cells and a torture chamber down there, and the man had answered with an annoyed, "Malfoy Manor is older than you can imagine, son, and back then the times were harder and more dangerous than they are now."  Never having heard the screams of the prisoners, he had believed this answer to mean that his father would never make use of the rooms the dungeons housed.

The blond wizard couldn't help but smirk bitterly as his mother saw him down those clammy stone stairs, showing no reaction to the tortured screams that echoed through the old halls.

Torches bathed the dungeons in an eerie light, making shadows more pronounced and threatening. Cloaked figures framed the hallway as the two Malfoys walked calmly towards a metal door that was guarded by another two cloaked and masked figures.

"Ma'am," the left one said and pulled out his wand to open the door. Draco flinched slightly, but his mother merely nodded and motioned her son to enter the cell.

What awaited him inside nearly had Draco lose what little food he had managed to force down this morning.

A girl, about the same age as Draco himself, lay on the floor. She had bruises and scratches all over her thin body. Her clothes were ripped and covered in blood, her hair matted and in knots. She was trembling and flinching; her sobs jumped back from the cold walls of the small room. Draco could see deep wounds in her forearms and one in the skin of her left shin that was peeking out of a rip in the material of her jeans. Something cream-coloured made a stark contrast to the deep red blood covering her right hand.

His stomach gurgled uncomfortably as his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing. Bone. There was a freaking bone jutting out of her hand! His eyes narrowed in on the big and bloody scratches that were located mostly on her arms. The skin was irritated, the wounds still slightly bleeding. Those bastards had broken her arms until the bones had come out of her freaking body! He felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. What monsters would do that? Breaking a human’s bones, just to heal them in order to break them again? For what? Just the heck of it? Because they were able to? Because she was a Muggle?

Her broken form was surrounded by hooded figures, most of whom had their wands drawn and either pointed at the crying girl or loosely at their sides. The sight before him made him want to reach into his cloak, grab his wand, and curse every single witch and wizard in this room because he was sure that the innocent girl lying at the mercy of the Death Eaters was a Muggle.

But he did not move as he stared into the bloodshot eyes of their victim that were pleading him to help. They were brown. It was a beautiful brown, almost like melted chocolate.

"Ah, Draco," the voice of his father said, and he looked at the hooded figure that stood directly above the defenceless girl. "You're in time. Excellent. Our Lord will be here any minute now. He will not want to miss you joining his ranks."

"Of course not." Draco's voice sounded hollow, lifeless, as he once again glanced at the Muggle on the floor. She had stopped sobbing, but tears still kept streaming down her dirty face.

"I see you've noticed our guest."

Draco kept himself from scoffing at the last second. Guest. Yeah, right.

"Our Lord has chosen a special task for you, son," Lucius Malfoy said quietly, and kicked the girl in the stomach as she sniffed loudly. "I said hold your filthy mouth, you pathetic creature!"

The girl whimpered and curled into a tight ball, trying to protect her stomach from further harm.

"Our Lord has decided that you will have an extreme honour. The Dark Lord holds a special interest in you as my son, so you will gladly and voluntarily follow his orders, Draco." His eyes twinkled menacingly behind the slits of his mask as he glared at his son and dared him to step one foot out of line.

"Yes, father."

"Very good."

Soft whispers filled the room as the nameless figures moved to the back of the cell, leaving the defenceless girl in the middle of the cold, wet floor. She was still clutching desperately at her aching stomach. Draco schooled his features into a carefully empty expression, but inside he was screaming. He wanted to help her, but he knew he couldn’t. Judging by her defeated posture, she knew that he would not be of any help. Quite the contrary in fact. He would be one of her torturers. She knew it and he did as well.

He didn’t raise his head to look at his father as the man slowly moved forward. He manoeuvred around the girl, careful as to not step into the puddle of blood that was slowly expanding, and stopped right next to him. The robed man rested one gloved hand on Draco’s stiff shoulders, squeezing slightly; not for comfort reasons, but as a warning. The young Malfoy didn’t let the older one know that he knew exactly what his father was doing to him. He would not let him have that satisfaction. Call it Slytherin pride or pure survival instinct; both would come out as the same at that moment.

“Any moment now the Dark Lord will arrive,” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was soft, velvety, almost gentle, as he whispered into his son’s ear. “He will welcome his followers, and he will include you in that welcome. Us Malfoys have been on the side of power and influence for generations now, and to now have a Lord as generous and fair as ours is, is truly a blessing. We have no right to be anything but thankful, Draco.”

Said young wizard swallowed painfully, trying his best to not shrug off his father’s hand. That would have been seen as betrayal, and he feared that that would exactly be the reason why he wanted to do it in the first place. Listening to that sick man talk about how following a madman was the honourable thing Malfoys did, had always done for generations, made him want to lay off that name and refuse to have ever been part of that twisted family.

This wasn’t right. They had to see that this was so wrong that nobody who was truly sane could believe this bullshit! But they didn’t.

His parents were completely gone; empty shells merely existing for their master’s bidding. Draco was sure that his father would not say anything against his Lord if the lunatic wanted to bed Narcissa. He wouldn’t dare to say anything that could end up with the Malfoys not being in the Dark Lord’s good graces.

Draco took a deep breath to keep from shivering. This was wrong. This was so wrong. What was he thinking just going along with it? He could’ve been at Harry’s side right now if he had just stayed.

The heavy hand on his shoulder squeezed painfully as Lucius softly cleared his throat. “You will be asked to give this filth what it deserves,” he muttered in a gentle tone, almost caringly, lovingly. He nearly sounded as deranged as his dear auntie Bella. Draco clenched his teeth together. “You will do as our Lord demands. You will then bow down and take on your true destiny.”

The young wizard slowly turned his empty eyes onto the cloaked Death Eater next to him. His eyes were shining behind his mask, glistening in a maniacally way.

This insane man wasn’t his father. He was nothing but a torturer, a murderer, who had clearly lost his mind along the way. The Dark Lord had cost him his soul, if he knew it or not, and if Draco allowed this to go on, allowed this to be him in a few years, he would never be able to live with himself. That man standing in front of him wasn’t human anymore. Hasn’t been for many, many years.

A hushed whisper came from the crowd on the other side of the cell, closely followed by a panicked whimper. Lucius’ hand slid from Draco’s shoulder as the wizard turned, sucked in his breath and fell to his knees. Lucius Malfoy, pureblood, proud wizard, member of a century old family line was grovelling at the feet of a halfblood without a nose.

Draco was disgusted.

A punch in his knee had him bend down himself, catching his fall at the last second before his face would have made contact with the uncomfortably hard floor. He couldn’t believe it. Pure instinct and his bloody so-called father had him involuntarily kneel down in front of a monster. A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Harry yelled at him to stand back up. Doing that would get him killed in an instant. Straightening up and looking the darkest wizard of the last century in the eye, though... That he could do, he thought cheekily, and risked his health and probably head as he raised the latter defiantly and glared at the ugly man in the doorway.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The voice of Lord Voldemort echoed through the room, making all of the Death Eaters shrink back towards the wall. Pathetic.

The hairless man turned his blood-red eyes towards the kneeling men in front of him; both Malfoy males couldn’t look more different. One dressed in a black cloak, the hood hiding his silver-blond hair, the other pushing a stubborn strand out of his eye; one being hunched in on himself, grovelling at the feet of his master, the other glaring at said man, wishing the most terrible things on him.

[Truculence](http://dict.leo.org/german-english/truculency) had taken a hold of the young wizard, and Lord Voldemort had to admit – it amused him immensely. Ah, youth. The youth still thought they were in control of their lives and would one day change the world for the better. They didn’t want to accept the fact that the world’s future was bigger than their person, that sacrifices would have to be made, even if that meant giving up their own lives for their master.

“Draco,” the snake-like man purred, and motioned the boy to stand. The defiant look did not vanish from his pale eyes, but the Dark Lord was pleased to see worry – and, oh, was that fear? – flicker in the grey orbs. “Welcome.”

Draco had to swallow the bile that was slowly accumulating in this mouth. He was too paralysed to really do anything than to stare, breathe and not faint right there on the spot. His heart was beating ten times its usual rate, his breaths were shallow and painful. Voldemort smirked, and Draco knew that he knew.

He knew everything. No, not everything, he thought desperately. An image of a laughing black-haired boy filled his mind. He would be dead if Voldemort found out.

Red left grey as they zoned in on the trembling girl on the floor. “What do we have here. Not brushed off your shoes before entering the room, I see?”

Laughter filled the room as Voldemort moved past the Malfoys and stopped right in front of the terrified Muggle.

“Draco,” he said, his eyes not leaving the girl, as a cruel smile found its way onto his thin lips. “Come over here.”

Forcing his knees to not give in, he filled his mind with happy thoughts as he made his hesitant way over to where the man who wanted to destroy the whole world stood. It was time to make a decision. He could feel it.

He had always laughed at Harry as he had said that everyone had all of the four Hogwarts houses inside them. Everyone was as brave as a Gryffindor if the time for courage came, everyone was as cunning as a Slytherin when stubbornness was the only thing saving your life, everyone was as smart as a Ravenclaw when they were forced to use their brain, and everyone was as loyal as a Hufflepuff once they had found a reason to stay put and believe. Facing his situation now, he figured it was time to channel some of that lion that is supposed to sit somewhere deep down in his heart.

“Tonight,” he said in a calm voice, his arms spread wide as if to welcome each and every one of them, “we are gathered here for the initiation of Draco Malfoy. It is an honour to receive the mark, a sign of your true and unbreakable loyalty to what is right. Therefore, as tradition calls for it, there will be a ritual taking place,” he paused, and looked from one Death Eater to the other. Draco had never understood why he preferred them being masked and thus unrecognisable.

“Your task, Draco, is obvious. We have a guest tonight, as you have already seen. Welcome her. Welcome her to your home.”

All eyes turned to him as wands were pulled out of robes and gripped tightly. This wasn’t a voluntary action. They would make him torture the poor girl if he refused, but he had reached a point at which he simply didn’t care anymore. Anything was better than being one of his brainless followers.

So, taking a deep breath, he slowly reached inside his own cloak. The Muggle flinched at the same moment as his fingers touched the smooth surface of the wood. It felt like ages. His fingers wrapped securely around the thin handle, his arm moving backwards, pulling the magical item out with it. Lucius scurried to the wall to his left, Voldemort was waiting on his right. His eyes never left the bleeding girl on the floor, who was once again pleading mercy, this time vocally.

“Stuff it, filth,” Lucius hissed, and shot a cutting curse straight at her face. The jinx cut into her skin, causing her to yelp in pain. The other brainless morons chuckled, amused at the show they were getting.

Voldemort did not react whatsoever. His red eyes were watching Draco closely, his dark-tinged magic sending spiky tendrils into the blond’s thoughts, looking for unguarded thoughts.

He took a deep breath and strengthened his mental walls. Voldemort frowned, obviously displeased. Draco was sure that Lucius would get into a lot of trouble once this was over, since he wouldn’t be there anymore to take all the blame. Hiding thoughts from their master was a huge act of disobedience, which was usually dealt with through torture.

 “No.”

Silence filled the room. The hand holding his wand was oddly stable. His breathing was calm. His heart on the other hand was racing, and he was starting to feel slightly faint.

“What was that?”

The whispered question crept out of Lucius’ corner, who came out of his shocked state and ripped his mask off his face. His expression was murderous. “What did you just say?”

“I won’t do it.”

“Lucius, I better not be hearing this,” Voldemort hissed as his eyes narrowed dangerously.

The older Malfoy looked to his master, his eyes wide with panic. “I assure you, my Lord, that this is a misunderstanding. Draco is merely nervous about what will happen...”

“He should not be nervous, my dear sniffling servant. He should embrace the opportunity instead of acting like a filthy blood traitor.”

“That he is not, my Lord. I assure you he will not disappoint you another time.”

A hand grabbed his upper arm, fingers digging painfully into his biceps. “Do it, Draco, or so help me Morgana...”

“I said I will neither torture nor kill this defenceless girl.”

His back straight, his eyes still looked into unbelieving brown ones, he prepared for the pain that was about to come. He would never be able to get lost in the bright emerald ever again, he thought, depressed, as he once again made peace with the fact that Harry knew that he loved him with his everything.

He would not become a Death Eater! Over his dead body!

“Crucio!”

*~*Impedimenta*~*

Drip. Drip. Drip.

His arm pulsed painfully as small drops of blood hit the polished wooden floor.

It’s been about half an hour, maybe slightly longer, since Lucius had thrown Draco back into his room, pushing him to the ground. With a last nasty sneer, he had slammed the door shut, sealing it with multiple charms to make sure he would not get out of this posh prison. He didn’t even have his wand on him. He wouldn’t be able to leave even if he tried.

Draco groaned softly, and pressed the golden satin pillow he had grabbed off of the couch onto his arm.

He couldn’t believe that he was still alive. Trembling all over and still gasping in pain, but breathing nonetheless. Not many people could say that once they’d disrespected the Dark Lord.

A satisfied, yet weak smirk crept onto his pale face. His eye lids were heavy and he was having difficulties to stay upright. Maybe he should lie down. That might help with the dizziness.

He didn’t know how long he was lying there on the chilly floor, but the dizziness did not go away; quite the contrary. The whole room had started to spin around him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut in order to not vomit right onto the fine mahogany. His arm was pulsating painfully, and he figured that the blood had already soaked through the pillow. That had to be a first! Not being killed by the Dark Lord or his goons, but bleeding to death because of a stupid wound. If he weren’t nearly unconscious and lucid enough, he would’ve found a certain irony in there.

He had never witnessed this kind of punishment before. Usually, those who refused to join his ranks were killed almost immediately. No-one survived more than ten minutes after the refusal. What was so different about him that they let him live?

Well, if he was completely honest with himself, he assumed that he might not stay alive much longer since one needed skin and most of the flesh to keep blood from pouring out of the body, right? You’d need skin at least. That’s what kept unwelcome things out and essential stuff in.

He slowly lifted his right hand and rubbed it over his face. He couldn’t focus anymore. He couldn’t think. His thoughts were muddled and confused, weaving into each other, without a start or an end.

His heart was beating too fast, and it was slowly getting difficult to get enough air into his lungs. The room was too stuffy, too hot.

Groaning loudly as another wave of pain hit him, he tried to push himself to his knees. He refused to suffocate in his own damn room! He just had to reach the window and everything would be fine. Someone would see him and he would once again be able to breathe and get some order into his thoughts.

On his slow and painful way there, he had to accept the fact that that was not about to happen as white spots pushed themselves into his vision, closing in on him, until he collapsed in a bloody heap on the polished mahogany floor his mother loved so much.

*~*Impedimenta*~*

He couldn’t stop pacing back and forth. He hadn’t heard anything from Draco in a week, and that was an awfully long time for someone who loved writing letters.

He pushed his hands through his disastrous hair and sneaked another gaze out of the window. It was looking over a street framed by big trees. On sunny days it was a beautiful view, but with the rain that was pouring out of the sky, it was nothing less but creepy and looked as if it was picked right out of a horror film.

What took them so long?

Lightning illuminated the street outside. Three people stood in the middle of the road, all hidden under oversized hoods and dark cloaks. Thunder rolled overhead as they quickly made their way over to the front door.

Harry smiled, relieved, and hurried through the room. He could hear the front door close shut as he reached the top of the staircase. Screeches that he was by now used to filled the halls as he raced down the stairs and nearly collided with one of the hooded figures, who caught him in time to prevent a painful collision.

An amused chuckle greeted him as the man raised his hand and pushed his hood out of his face. His greying hair was slightly rumpled, but his smile was warm, if a bit tense.

“Hello, Harry,” Remus said and quickly gave him a one-armed hug. Harry peeked over his shoulder to see Ron and Hermione take off their cloaks and shake out there damp hair.

“What took you so long?” he asked, but Remus ignored him and walked past him towards the still screaming portrait. With practiced motions, he pulled the curtains shut and motioned the three younger wizards to follow him into the kitchen.

“Kingsley is calling the Order together, but it’s difficult to get enough people to join this mission,” Remus’ voice filled the room as soon as he had stepped over the threshold. He walked over to the table and leaned against it, turning towards his surrogate godson and his friends. He had an apologetic smile on his face.

“Because they think he’s a Death Eater,” the black-haired wizard said bluntly, staring at the man in front of him, who sighed and nodded slightly. Harry groaned. “They can’t be serious! He’s not one of Voldemort’s followers! He doesn’t want to follow him.”

“You know that, Harry, and we do as well, but most of the Order’s still under the impression that once you’ve changed sides, you won’t make up your mind. At least not fully.”

“And what about Snape?” Harry exclaimed. An angry blush rose on his cheeks. “He has changed sides. Why can’t Draco do the same?”

“You don’t have to ask me that question, Harry, because I absolutely agree with you. In fact, Kingsley made use of the exact same fact, but not many seemed to care. I’m sorry.”

The young wizard glared at the werewolf for a few seconds before huffing and leaving the room. He didn’t care whether he’d get help. He’d go and get Draco, and if he died trying then the Order would maybe try and change their views on some points because they were just a bunch of prejudiced idiots, who couldn’t look past the obvious.

“Harry, where are you going?” Hermione’s hurried steps echoed through the hallway as Harry reached the wardrobe. “You can’t go there alone!”

“Oh, yeah? Watch me!” Angrily, he ripped his cloak off of the hook and stormed further upstairs to retrieve his Invisibility Cloak. He didn’t know what he would have to face, but he had grown accustomed to having his trusty heirloom with him. It gave him courage and strength, both of which he dearly needed right now.

“Harry, please, just let us think this through beforehand!” Hermione said desperately, her hands wringing nervously as she watched Harry hurry through his bedroom and grab his father’s cloak. “I’m sure we’ll find a solution that is perfectly safe.”

“No offence, Hermione, but we don’t have time for brainstorming right now,” Harry grit out and forced himself to not scowl at his best friend. “I know you’re trying to help, but this really isn’t helping. I haven’t heard anything from him in ages. The last time I saw him he acted as if it would be the last time I would ever see him. He’s in danger, Hermione. I just know it. I can feel it. I know this isn’t safe and I know that the chances of us getting hurt or worse are very high, but I cannot leave him on his own like this! I love him!”

The bushy-haired witch looked at Harry for some painfully long seconds. Her best friend had hectic red spots that were colouring his cheeks, his eyes were wide and desperate, and the hand that wasn’t clutching the cloak as if his life depended on it – which was very likely – clenched and unclenched in a nervous manner.

He would go even without her help. She knew him. She had grown up by his side, had gotten to know how he ticked and how he acted. The only difference between her staying or her going would be his chance of survival. She didn’t have a choice. She never did. But she didn’t care. She wouldn’t risk her brother’s life over anything. Even if that meant sneaking into Malfoy Manor. But, hey – it wasn’t as if they hadn’t done that before, right?

“Alright,” she grabbed his free hand and pulled him out of the room and down the stairs. Ron was already waiting for them, both her and his cloak in his hands. “What’s the plan?”

*~*Impedimenta*~*

Hurried footsteps carried them into the dark shadows of the woods near the mansion. The massive building loomed over them, making them feel threatened and isolated. The weather didn’t help much either.

Ron’s teeth chattered as they sat huddled behind a big tree, peeking around its trunk. Brown eyes searched the grounds, blue eyes frowned at the muddy puddle they were crouching in and green eyes were fixed on one set one dark windows. Draco’s chambers.

“The lights aren’t on,” his voice could barely be heard over the rolling thunder. “What if we’re too late?”

Hermione scoffed and forced the dark-haired wizard to turn around. He looked completely lost, so unlike usual. “We’re not too late. Now listen to me, Harry. We will march in there. Well, you will. Underneath your cloak. Ron and I will create a diversion. Didn’t Draco once say that his father held peacocks? We’ll think of something. Once everyone is busy trying to figure out what’s going on, you sneak up the stairs and into Draco’s rooms. Once you’re in there, you get him out and we’ll apparate back to Grimmauld Place.”

Ron stared at her as if she had lost her mind, his mouth hanging slightly open. “That was the worst plan I’ve ever heard you come up with, ‘Mione.”

“Well, do you have a better one?” Hermione snapped, ignoring Harry’s nervous fidgeting. “We have to get him out of there now. Preferably before it’s too late!”

Ron didn’t look happy, but didn’t say anything else to contradict her. He looked towards Harry and nodded, proving his absolute and blind trust in his friends. “You ready?”

Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. His thoughts were whirling through his head. He had to focus! Why was he so scared? He fought bloody Voldemort and lived to tell the tale, for Merlin’s sake! Multiple times! He wasn’t one who worried about what could happen! He was someone who stormed into the situation at hand and improvised!

Warm hands grabbed his trembling ones. His head jerked up and he saw brown eyes look at him encouragingly. Hermione smiled. “Everything will be alright,” she said, her eyes never leaving his frightened ones. “You’re not alone.”

*~*Impedimenta*~*

The house was quiet. Eerily quiet.

Harry could not even hear the thunder that was raging on outside. Thick stone walls were hiding him from the power of nature.  House elves that were usually hurrying around, waving cleaning rags or carrying tea trays were nowhere to be seen. Even the portraits that were usually eager to comment on whoever entered the main hall were quiet.

The raven-haired wizard felt a shudder run down his spine as he moved towards the grand staircase leading to the upper floor, careful to not let the cloak ride up over his shoes. The portraits might be silent, but they still had eyes and – no doubt – strong voices.

His footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floor as he started looking for Draco’s rooms. He knew from what the blond had told him that they were on the first floor, in the East Wing. He sincerely hoped that that was where he was at the moment, because he had absolutely no idea where East would be. He’d never been good at remembering how one could find out the cardinal points.

The floor was covered in dark, polished wood, one huge, dark grey carpet lying in the middle of the wide hallway. Family portraits were decorating the also wooden walls, trying desperately, but failing spectacularly, to give this part of the mansion a homely feel to it. Guarded expressions, stiff postures and dull eyes did not exactly scream, ‘welcome.’

He tried not to think about what was happening to Draco at this moment as he carefully pressed his ear against doors and listened to the slightest noise that might tell him what was behind each door. He forced himself to keep from thinking that he was too late, that he had waited too long to come and find him.

He had wanted to respect Draco’s wish to not come after him as he needed to do what his family asked of him. He had not been happy about it – quite the contrary in fact – but he had respected that wish. He would have wanted Draco away from the bull’s eye as well if he had had the opportunity to tell him to stay far away from the Ministry of Magic and their Department of Mysteries or whatever places where he had fought for his life. He wouldn’t want his other half in danger, and he knew that Draco found comfort in the knowledge that Harry was far away. Or so he thought....

A squeaking sound pulled him out of his reveries and made him freeze where he had been leaning against one of the heavy oak doors.

A house elf, dressed in dirty rags, came shuffling through the door at the very end of the long hallway. It was carrying a bucket and a piece of cloth, muttering softly to itself.

Harry held his breath as the small elf moved past him.

“Tibby bad, Tibby not to disrespect Master. Tibby listen to Master and do what he say. Tibby be a good elf. Tibby not go to young Master, no, Tibby listen to Master and clean the tea room before Master wants tea. Tibby good elf. Tibby good,” the muttered words faded into a soft murmur as the distressed elf hurried around the corner and disappeared.

Harry exhaled softly as something close to relief flooded him. He was on the right floor, it seemed. At least one positive thing was happening to him tonight! He just hoped that Hermione and Ron’s distraction managed to hold Malfoy senior and his goons away for long enough, so that he could get to the blond safely and unnoticed. Thinking back to his friend’s explanation of her brilliant plan, though, he somehow doubted that Lucius Malfoy would be kept away from his son’s rooms for long. He had to hurry.

Tucking the Invisibility Cloak tightly around himself, Harry sneaked down the hallway, pausing every now and then to listen for footsteps that didn't belong to him. He couldn't hear a sound next to his shallow breathing and his heart that was thumping desperately in his ribcage. Judging by the silence, he was alone on this floor.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, though. Draco would have sent him a letter by now, telling him that he was alive, that he didn't need to worry. Not sending a letter would lead to Harry coming to bad conclusions; he knew that all too well. So why was he not hearing him? He could think of a couple of options; one less welcome than the other. Either, he was on an entirely different storey and the elf had not meant Draco at all, the blond was busy and didn't feel the need to myke any noises - he liked that option the most - or the young Malfoy heir was unable to make a sound, maybe unconscious. He didn't want to think about the other possibility. If his other half was unconscious, he needed him to finally stop being a coward and start opening doors, damn it!

Taking a deep breath, Harry checked whether he really was on his own in the deserted hallway and lifted his cloak off of his left hand, his right reaching for his wand. His trembling fingers curled around the cold metal of the doorknob and twisted.

The door swung open silently, revealing a posh room, decorated in materials that he had never even seen before. The walls were on a dark grey colour, similar to the tone the long carpet in the hallway had. Heavy curtains covered most of the ceiling-high windows, dunking the room into an even darker light. A group of plush couches and chairs in light blue stood in one corner, the fireplace next to them was cold.

Cautiously, as to not make any sound, Harry pulled the door shut, twisting the doorknob in the last second to keep it from falling shut and possibly alerting any house elves. Trying to calm his nerves, he hurried further down the hallway to the next door. He pushed it open, only to find a relatively small room filled with bookshelves that reached to just underneath the ceiling. A desperate huff escaped him, and he moved to the next door.

Door after door he opened, without finding anything than possible guest rooms, studies, game rooms and libraries. Why a family of three needed so many libraries was beyond him.

Harry was close to losing hope. He couldn't find him. What if he had already been in his room but hadn't recognised it because the person living in it wasn't there? He had never been in Draco's rooms, he merely knew about where they were. Not even that he was one hundred percent sure of.

He had to stay calm and think. It didn't do him any good if he went and started to get panicked. He had one room left, just about three metres ahead of him, and if that one wasn't the one he was looking for either, then he'd just turn around and search the whole freaking mansion! He was not giving up or leaving without Draco!

He squeezed his eyes shut shortly before ruffling his hair and marching to the last door on his right. He twisted the handle, pushed against the wood and froze. There, just a few metres in front of him on the floor lay Draco Malfoy. His blond hair unkempt and loosely hanging around his pale face, one arm outstretched, the other cradled against his chest. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly apart. His alabaster cheek rested in what looked like a drying patch of blood.

A shocked gasp escaped Harry before he could bite it back. Not caring whether anyone would find him anymore, he threw the door shut behind him, quickly sending a locking charm in its general direction. His cloak lay on the floor, entirely forgotten, as he rushed forward and fell onto his knees next to the person that meant the world to him.

"Draco!" his voice was trembling violently, as he grabbed the blond's shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Green eyes widened drastically as they took in the sight that was his boyfriend.

Blood covered most of the front of his dark robes, which made his already bloodless skin look even paler. He looked dead. The only calming thing was the shallow, huffed breaths and the moving chest, as it raised up and down slightly as it painfully took in oxygen.

"Draco, open your eyes. Please, it's me. Harry. I'm here now, love! Everything will be okay. You'll see," his muttered words fell on deaf ears as the first desperate tear dropped into blond hair. "Don't do this to me!"

Grey eyes fluttered open and stared into glowing green ones.

Draco's lips twitched into a weak smile. He was in heaven. His suffering had had an end after all, and he was in his personal paradise. But why did every single breath hurt as if his entire being was on fire? A painful groan escaped his lips. Everything hurt. His bones were feeling as if they were shattered in tiny, sharp pieces that were digging their way into his organs, tissues and muscles. He couldn't breathe. Every breath he took burned down his dry thought, all the way into his lungs where the heat spread. He tried to move, but a blissfully cool hand held him down.

"Don't move too much, love. You're injured," the voice said worriedly, as green eyes focused on his ruined left arm.

"Harry?"

"Shh, I'm here," his boyfriend said calmingly and gently brushed the sweaty hair out of his thin face. "I'm gonna get you out of here, Draco. Ron and Hermione are waiting outside. We'll get you out of here."

"No," the blond moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. It was too dangerous! He didn't want them here, especially not him. He could get hurt, or worse killed, and all because of him! He wasn't worth it! Harry had to get out of here and leave as quickly as possible!

"I will do no such thing without you and now shut up and let me think," the beautiful voice of his lover hissed as he muttered the words, "dangerous" and "killed", but the raven-haired boy didn't listen.

Harry rushed over to Draco's humongous bed, shot a cutting hex towards the satin bedding and ripped long pieces of cloth out of it, ignoring Draco's pleas to abandon him and get himself to safety. The blond was a bloody fool if he thought he would listen.

"We have to get you out of here," Harry muttered as he wrapped the expensive material around the blond's bloody arm. "Is there a quick way out of here that doesn't include the main entrance hall?"

Draco wheezed as he inhaled painfully. "No," Harry had to lean down in order to catch the whispered word. "They would take too long and are too dangerous."

"The window it is, then," Harry sighed and jogged over to the ceiling-high window that was framed by two smaller ones. Not seeing a handle to open the big one, Harry trained his wand onto the glass and vanished it.

"I'll levitate you out. Once you've reached the ground, I'll follow you. We'll get you out of here safely. I promise."

Just as he hushed Draco, who again wanted him to get out as quickly as possible and not to worry about him, he heard hurried footsteps outside the room. Voices that he hadn't noticed before quickly came nearer.

Harry cursed and hurried towards the door to pick up his cloak. Raising his wand, he layered charm over charm onto the old wood of the door, hoping against all hope that it would buy them time.

"He's in here," the voice of Lucius Malfoy called right outside their room. Draco whimpered.

Harry jumped into action. Not thinking twice, he waved his wand and silently charmed his boyfriend into the air. He threw his invisibility cloak over his body and pushed him out of the ruined window. Fists banged against the door, the light of curses shining through the slid between its wood and the floor.

He ran after the invisible form of the blond and aimed his wand to the spot he assumed his body to be. Muttering the counter charm, he slowly lowered Draco and let him come to rest on a soft patch of grass underneath the window. He hoped that the rogue peacocks running around on the ground didn't step on the blond, but to blow the cloak off of the injured boy could very well mean his death.

A ear-splitting bang ripped Harry out of his concentration. He whipped around and stared at the three men standing in the doorway, the destroyed door blown off its hinges. Evil grins spread over their faces as the blond man in the front raised his wand. Harry, not wasting precious seconds to think, acted purely on instinct as he yelled the first hex that came to mind, at the exact same moment as Lucius Malfoy's cold voice filled the room.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Impedimenta!"

Harry jumped to the left, crashing into a velvet, green armchair as the sizzling curse shot mere inches past him. A sharp pain shot through his side, but he didn't hold still. Quickly picking himself up off the floor, he escaped another bright green curse that had been aimed towards the spot he had just been lying on. His heart hammered in his chest and his arm shot up as if on its own accord and shot a silent stunner straight into the attacker's chest, taking him down as well.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, washing away the pain and fear. Another one of his hexes missed its target and burned a hole into the doorway. A yelled, "Crucio" had him duck out of the way as the forbidden curse flew past him and out the glassless window behind him.

He had to leave. Now. It was too risky taking down Death Eater after Death Eater, possibly attracting new ones to his location.

Casting a strong shield in the hopes that no Unforgivable would be sent his way in the next few seconds, he turned his back towards the doorway, ran to the open window and jumped right out, without casting cushioning charms in the ground first.

Shocked grey eyes that were impossibly wide were the last thing he saw before he felt a blinding pain shoot through his right leg as he hit the ground. A snapping sound told him that his leg had been snapped in two.

"Harry!" Draco gasped and crawled over to where he was lying. "Oh Merlin, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the raven-haired wizard bit out through clenched teeth and looked up as he heard excited voices shouting his name.

"Harry! We've got to get out of here! We barely managed to get rid of them. They've swarmed out and are looking for you," Ron panted and leant down to pick the raven-haired wizard up off the floor.

"Can you walk?" Worried blue eyes shot a glance to his leg that was scraping over the floor, useless.

"I think it's broken," Harry ground out through clenched teeth as he tried to out weight on it carefully. Pain shot through his whole side, pulling a pained gasp out of him.

"Get Draco and get out of here. I'll manage to hold them off for a while until you've brought him to safety."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione snapped and whirled around from where she had been keeping an eye on the mansion. "We have to leave now and with 'we' I mean all of us. Draco," the blond's head jerked up, light grey eyes looked at her tiredly, "can you stand up?"

Slowly, the young Malfoy tried to get to his knees before his arms started trembling violently and gave way.

"Okay, Ron, help Harry, I'll get Draco. We'll meet behind the gates. Go!"

The couple quickly waved their wands in the same fashion, bewitching their friends to float next to them. A freckled hand grabbed Harry's, a tanned one grabbed Draco's, and they started to run. Shouts echoed through the woods on their right, jumping off of the trees and the manor's stone walls. They had found them. Curses of different colour shot past them, some a mere few centimetres away from their limbs as they ran as quickly as they could to where they knew the grounds' gates were located.

Hermione winced as a sharp pain shot through her left side, but she kept running, throwing curses of her own over her shoulder. A pained yell told her that she had at least hit one.

After what felt like an eternity, the gates came into view. Harry's leg gave an uncomfortable twinge as a curse shot right past it, heating up the air around it with an aggressive fizzle. Raising his wand arm, he shot multiple stunners and cutting curses at their attackers in quick succession, taking down three who had run directly into the curses.

"Is it long still?" he shouted over the explosions and yelled incantations.

"About one hundred metres! Incendio!" Ron yelled, quickly followed by a pained scream as one Death Eater lit up in flames, involuntarily taking two others down with him.

Harry turned his head on the invisible stretch to look over to his boyfriend. The blond had his eyes closed and his breaths were too quick and shallow. The improvised satin bandage around his arm was blood red. They needed to hurry.

As they passed the gates, he did not have enough time to allow himself to feel relief as the cool breeze of protection spells washed over him, just before he was whisked away into darkness.

*~*Impedimenta*~*

Pain was the first thing he noticed when his brain caught up with his surroundings. It wasn’t the type of sharp pain you had when you cut yourself with a knife or the dull ache that was caused by knocking your knee. It was a weird mixture of these two kinds; a dull, everlasting ache that felt as if his bones were on fire. He couldn’t specify its origin, as it felt like it came from within, directly from his blood, being spread through his veins by his steady heartbeat.

A soft groan escaped him as he tried to open his eyes. The room was dark, which made it impossible for him to see where he was. The only sounds he could hear were his lungs expanding painfully just before pushing the air back out, accompanied by an unhealthy wheezing sound, and soft huffing noises that he only knew too well.

He forced himself to turn his head to his right slowly. The motion made his head spin and he had to inhale deeply to not vomit all over the young man sitting hunched in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair at his bed side. Raven hair was sticking out at unnatural angles, clumping together and making it look anything but its usually shiny nature. A small strand of the soft texture hung into closed eyes, lashes fanned over pale cheeks.

Draco’s lips twitched slightly as a smile tried to creep onto his face. Without thinking, his brain gave his left arm the command to rise off the cool blanket, lift over the unconscious wizard next to him and run his fingers through his messy hair, but a sharp jab of intense pain made him gasp in shock and immediately regret his decision to move. He winced as his lover twitched and slowly turned his head to look at the sheepishly smiling pureblood.

“Draco,” he exclaimed, and was immediately shushed by the blond who kept shooting fearful looks towards the door of the medical ward that he was currently resting in. “You’re awake,” his voice now barely louder than a whisper.

“How are you feeling?”

“Why did you come?” The softly asked question echoed through the deadly silent room, jumping off of the cold stone walls, assaulting the two people currently staring at each other; silver eyes emotionless, emerald ones unbelieving.

“What?”

“You heard my question, Harry. Why did you come back when I specifically told you not to?”

Harry gaped at the man sitting on the bed in front of him; his aristocratic features smooth, too smooth to be honest. He knew what the blond was doing; he had seen him do it multiple times before, more often than he could have counted, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he apparently still felt the need to shut him out.

“I couldn’t have left you on your own, Draco, and you know that,” the raven-haired wizard forced his voice to not tremble. His heart was beating faster than usual, thumping violently against his rib cage, threatening to burst out of its protective shell, right into the lap of the one and only who could destroy it with a simple flick of his wrist. “I would never have left you. I told you I would stay by your side, no matter what.”

Draco swallowed past tears that were threatening to tumble out of his eyes. _No!_ He would not show that kind of vulnerability! If Harry saw him like this, his damned hero instinct would kick in and he’d feel obligated to save him like he always did. That’s his thing – saving people; no matter how hopeless the situation was. Harry was too stubborn for his own good. If he’d have his way, he’d ruin his whole life just to save another, and that was what he was currently doing. If Draco allowed the Potter heir to stay, he’d seal the horrible fate looming over him. Voldemort would come after him and end what he had started. His own father would come and see to him dying of his own hand, and he would _not_ , under any circumstances, allow Harry of all people to stick by him and die just like he would.

He hadn’t been strong enough to choose when he should have, but he sure as hell would be strong enough to choose when he needed to, and that moment was now!

“Draco, shut up.”

The blond jumped slightly as the surprisingly strict voice hit his eardrums. He turned his head and stared at the anything but amused-looking saviour of the wizarding world, gobsmacked.

Blinking, confused, Draco took a deep breath to remark that he hadn’t even said anything when a pair of soft lips took every bit of left-over oxygen out of his system, kissing him into unconsciousness. The slightly chapped lips moved against his, kissing him softly, lovingly, yet with a hidden strength and desperation that Draco did not dare to pull back, as he cautiously lifted his right arm and pushed his fingers into that soft, tangled mess the other called hair.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like this, kissing as if their lives depended on it – maybe they did – but as Harry finally pulled away, his eyes were anything but gentle. He glared at the blond and the Malfoy heir could literally see smoke come off of the man who had just taken his breath away.

“Harry?” he asked worriedly, his hand still suspended in air, uncertain of what to hold onto.

“No, Draco, you listen to me now.”

The injured wizard gulped, his hand limply falling onto the cold bed sheets.

“I know what you’re trying to do. I know you want to _protect_ me,” the fuming man scoffed and pushed out of his chair. He had too much energy flowing through his system right now. He needed to calm down somewhat before he completely lost whatever was left of his control on his magic.

He positioned himself at the foot of his lover’s bed, unable to touch any part of him but perfectly able to look him in the eyes, to keep himself grounded. “You don’t need to protect me. I don’t _want_ you to protect me. What I want and need is your trust. I need you to trust my ability to keep myself safe and I need you to put all of your energy into that trust and work together with me! I know the Death Eaters are after you. I know Voldemort is after you,” he said in a low, controlled voice and pointed at his bandaged inner arm.

Draco frowned at it and put his right hand over the covered wound. A dull pain told him that the gash wasn’t healed yet, meaning that it would probably never completely heal either.

“Whatever they did to your arm,” Draco’s eyes trailed back to Harry who was once again seated right next to him, looking worriedly at his appendix, “was to serve as a kind of warning. Voldemort always had a thing for drama.”

The blond’s lip twitched slightly, amused.

“Do you know how they did that to you?” Deep green eyes studied him closely as the Malfoy heir swallowed.

Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered, his silver eyes leaving the loving embrace of the emerald ones looking at him. “I was unconscious.”

Harry nodded, thoughtful. “Madam Pomfrey said that it’s dark magic.”

Draco gulped. He had figured as much since the wound had not healed fully yet, so if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t that surprised.

“You lost a lot of blood,” the blond’s head jerked up and he looked at Harry whose eyes were focused on the white bedding that covered Draco’s lower body. “The wound got infected since it went untreated for so long. I nearly lost you.” His voice cracked towards the ends, not louder than a whisper.

Draco reached his right hand out to Harry’s trembling ones as he heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle. The black-haired wizard intertwined their fingers and ran his thumb over the soft, pale skin of his lover’s hand. A sad smile graced his features as he met the blond’s loving gaze.

“Madam Pomfrey managed to close the wound as best as possible and to keep the magic from spreading. She said you might feel a lingering pain, but that should be over in a couple of days once your magic has managed to get rid of the polluted traces of Voldemort’s or whoever did this to you.”

Silence followed afterwards, filling the medical ward completely. The only sound Draco could hear were the soft airy breaths of both men in the room, as well as his own heart beat as it continued to beat quicker than normally. He blamed the raven head, who had started to play with his fingers. It looked so innocent, but the slight smirk on his handsome face told Draco that Harry knew _exactly_ what he was doing. _Git_.

“How did you get me out of there?” he asked after a couple of minutes of trying to breathe calmly and evenly, and failing spectacularly.

“Ron and Hermione helped.”

“The Weasel and Granger? Really?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything.

“Where are they?”

Draco frowned as Harry hesitated slightly, not fully knowing how to answer that question. “What happened, Harry?”

“Nothing!” he exclaimed a bit too quickly. Draco raised his eyebrows sceptically, waiting for the common sense of his opposite to kick in. “Well, not nothing, but everything is fine now. They are fine, I mean. Well....”

“Potter, just spit it out,” Draco drawled, earning a flushed grin from his former school enemy.

“Hermione got hurt when we were getting you out of there,” he said and looked up at the wide grey eyes that were staring at him as if he had lost his mind.

“ _Nothing_ happened, huh? Well, that doesn’t sound like nothing to me, it doesn’t!” His voice sounded slightly hysterical as he gaped at his boyfriend with so much disbelief that he thought his eyes might pop out at any second now.

“She’s fine!” Harry hurried to say and pushed a wound-up Draco Malfoy back into his pillows. “She’s completely fine now. She was hit with a cutting curse. Nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fit. She’s on bed rest for the next day, but after that she’ll be back to her usual cheery self, I promise.”

“And you? You are alright?” Draco asked softly as he searched every free spot of skin, every movement, every facial expression that could convince him of the opposite.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Nothing happened to you?” he asked, still mildly sceptical that the bookworm got hurt but Mister _I-run-into-every-fight-without-so-much-of-a-second-thought_ Potter did not.

“Well....”

Draco groaned and pushed his right hand through his messy bed hair. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Harry exclaimed, looking a mix of indignant and sheepish. “ _IbrokemyanklewhenIjumpedoutofyourwindowbutit’shealednowandit’snotabigdealanyway._ ”

Draco blinked at the blushing wizard and took a deep breath. “I didn’t quite catch that,” he deadpanned and waited for Harry to get his Gryffindor courage back because that he would need if he had dared to get himself hurt and tried to wave it off as something not worth mentioning.

Harry took a calming breath and smiled charmingly at his boyfriend. “I might have kind of broken my ankle when I jumped out of your bedroom window, but Madam Pomfrey healed it, alright. I’m completely fine. See?”

Before Draco could do anything more than let out an embarrassing squeak, his way too stubborn boyfriend stood up and jumped on one leg, making himself look like the buffoon Draco already knew he was.

“See? Everything’s alright.” Harry smiled and let himself fall back into the uncomfortable-looking wooden chair next to the blond’s bed. “Everything that we’ll have left of this night is the wound on your arm, and that will hopefully fade with time.”

Draco shook his head slowly as the antics of the man who people saw as a war hero, who was currently grinning cheekily at him.

“But hey, at least now we’ll have matching scars, right?”

“Just shut up already, Potter.”

“I love you too, you git.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think.  
> Until next time - see ya :D


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